The Body and the Daughter
by Arcadya
Summary: Booth brings a body into the lab for Bones. Bones brings a secret. I've upped the rating to T, just because the body got a little bit more icky than I had realized.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone who has spent their precious time reading this lonely fic. I just want to thank you all ahead of time, especially because I'm a little bit worried I may not have captured everyone justifiably. Please review, or otherwise I can't get better. Also, any reviews are much appreciated, although I do ask that when stating whether or not you liked my work - please explain why...not just that you did or didn't like it, thanks.**

Dr. Temperance Brennan walked with a calm grace into the Jeffersonian on a cool September morning. Granted it was a little early for anyone to be decently out and about, but as George the security guard thought '_5am's not too bad for the good doctor.'_

George and Temperance had a good working relationship. He gave a short friendly, yet professional, wave whenever she arrived and she gave a small tight, friendly smile back. Last year, after that horrible Christmas valley fever scare, she had even wished him a Merry Christmas after leaving.

For some reason, George imagined a feeling of contentment resonating from Dr. Brennan. He liked to think that after all this time she was beginning to feel happy and at home here. She deserved it, and she always depicted him very nicely in her books, the sweet, elderly security guard name Jorge Bailey. It was her written thanks to him for keeping her bones safe!

Bones smiled at George as she walked into the Jeffersonian. She had taken Angela's advice and had started to give more of herself to the people around her, she had decided to start with George he seemed safe enough, and kind of reminded her of her grandfather. She glanced around the lab, the lights were dark and no one was around, she went into Limbo and pulled out the file AB#24354, a John Doe from 1967. Four hours later Booth strolled into her office demanding her attention.

"Bones, I've got a body for you!"

"Booth, a body? As in skin…" Brennan looked slightly distressed.

Booth did half grimace before answering "Well, yes but it's not what you think, well kind of but you just…you have to see it."

Brennan still did not look convinced, "Bones, please Cullen was very specific about getting you to have the first look."

"Okay, but if it's skin we'll need Cam"

Booth watched in slight surprise as Bones walked out towards the lab, since when did Bones need anyone? Especially for work? Especially Cam?

Cam, Zack, Hodgins and Booth were all loitering around an autopsy table as Bones started to become restless.

"Booth, I thought when you said you had a body for me; you meant an actual one that I could see, not some ephemeral one made up out of your imagination."

"Yeah, Seeley, I was actually doing work before this" Cam chimed in; Booth sent her an unimpressed look. She merely grinned.

"Bones, I'm sure they just got lost in traffic or something"

"The FBI got lost?"

"Delayed...traffic, you know" he groaned, "Bones, seriously be little bit patient, it's only been a quarter of an hour."

Just when it looked like Bones was about to give up all hope and storm back to her office, a timid attention-grabbing cough was heard.

Each one of them slowly turned towards to the bringer of the noise. It was an elderly security guard.

"Hi George." Brennan said. The others looked surprised that she knew someone who worked at the Jeffersonian, specifically one they did not.

"Dr. Brennan, um…well, the thing is you see" he began, Brennan looked at him more steadily,

"Security guard dude, spit it out" Hodgins interrupted.

"George, darling, take a breath and start again" Angela replied as she climbed the stairs after swiping her card.

"Um, Dr. Brennan, there's a young girl here, woman I mean, ah…she says she's your daughter" George looked mortified to be even carrying this absurd news to the good doctor.

Everyone else looked at him in wordless amusement! Even the thought of it was laughable. Cam and Booth were both trying to choke back small chuckles, while Zach, Angela and Hodgins all looked slightly confused, that is of course, until Brennan said

"Delaney's here?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey readers, your reviews inspired me so much that I managed to complete another chapter. I thought I was going to let you all stew for a couple of days while I worked on it, but what can I say reviews actually do get the stories out faster!**

**Also I realised I forgot my DISCLAIMER! So here it is.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the things which have escaped the asylum of my mind, oh and of course Delaney and George. They didn't escape, they were paroled.**

**_Previously on The Body and the Daughter_**_  
_

_"there's a young girl here, woman I mean, ah…she says she's your daughter"_

_"Delaney's here?"_

At that precise moment the doors to the lab slid open and the FBI brought in the body. No one moved.

"Where is she?" Brennan asked, and George pointed towards the doors, out to the foyer where all non-employees must wait. Brennan left immediately.

As the body was delicately placed upon an autopsy table by the FBI lackeys, Booth, Angela, Hodgins, Zach and Cam stood stock still in the lab, frozen in place by this new development.

"What?" stated Booth, "That's a little…"

"Surprising" said Hodgins

"Unexpected"' replied Zach

"Unfair!" Booth finished.

"Unfair? You think it's unfair?" Cam replied.

"Hell yes!" Angela confirmed

"You'd think since I told her about Parker she'd tell me about…"

"Technically, you did not inform Dr. Brennan of Parker's existence, she found out from Hodgins, who was informed accidentally by Dr. Goodman whom you told while hallucinating" Zach began to explain the intricacies of the 'Parker' discovery.

"Yes, thank you Zach" Booth said sarcastically. "No, it's unfair, definitely unfair. We're partners; partners share things, important things. I'd think something like a daughter was a sharing thing, right?"

"Excuse me sweetie, But I'm her best friend don't you think it's a little bit more important for me to know than for you?"

"Did you know?" Hodgins asked. Angela didn't reply, she merely stared at the doors though which Brennan had disappeared. "I'll take that as a no" he mumbled.

A few more minutes passed, agonizing minutes for the collection of colleagues on the platform. A million questions filled the air like a thick fog, the silence was palpable, they all yearned for Brennan to return so they could begin their interrogation. Foremost in their minds the questions of: Y_ou have a daughter? How old is she? Why didn't you tell us? _The why they weren't informed of this aspect of Brennan's life the thing that hurt the most, especially for Booth and Angela.

George, the elderly security guard, was shell shocked. His whole opinion of Dr. Brennan was irreconcilably altered. She, the solitary doctor, who tugged at his heartstrings with her yearning for family, already had one. One that she kept separate and secret from her friends. But as he looked toward her rushing out to greet her petite daughter, George thought _there must be more to it than this, Dr. Brennan is a good woman, she has her reasons. _And so, he followed her. Hoping to catch some glimpse of what made Dr. Brennan decide to shun her daughter, from the world, and from her friends.

George walked as swiftly as his sixty-seven year old legs could carry him; he rounded a corner and immediately stopped. There, standing in front of the entire Jeffersonian Museum where anybody could see her, was Dr. Brennan hugging a young girl, _no, a young woman_. This woman who had identified herself as Delaney Brennan was smaller than Dr. Brennan by a good five inches. Her hair was slightly darker than her mothers, and the features were similar but not. George couldn't put his proverbial finger on it but if he was truthful with himself he didn't quite believe it. But perhaps the girl took after her father…now that was an interesting thought. One that Angela herself was struggling with.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi guys, a BIG thankyou for all your reviews, and a normal thankyou to all those who are reading but not commenting.**

**Firstly, to Ampersand Ellipsis I'm so glad you like George, I like him too.**

**And to an anonymous reviewer by the name A. Nony Mouse - I seriously swear you must be telepathic! About the math you were doing, totally the first paragraph of this chapter and I promise you I wrote this before you even said anything. And about the pits you were talking about...please stick around, I'll think you'll like were I'm going with this.**

**So anyway disclaimer-ising:- I own nothing except my asylum and George and Delaney and of course this new interesting body that barely gets mentioned in this chapter...I'm sorry about that but you'll have to wait for next time.**

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Angela stood on the platform unaware that a stinky, decaying body – mostly flesh – was situated directly to her left. The artist was so involved in the digestion of the appearance of Bren's new daughter that her disgust for death went unnoticed. She stared at a spot on the floor a couple of centimeters above her feet, she racked her brains for any sign in Bren's past that could have indicated a child. What had sweet George said? _Young girl, young woman_, meaning…older. Brennan's daughter must be older than say…fourteen. Angela was confused, Brennan was only thirty, to have a fourteen year old meant sixteen and pregnant. But George indicated that _Delaney_, the name dripping with sarcasm more so out of hurt than any real anger, _Delaney_ was older than fourteen, a young woman he had said, what did that mean sixteen, eighteen even? But for Bren that would mean fourteen, maybe even twelve. That couldn't be right. Angela knew all her stories, all her firsts, just the same as Bren knew hers. Bren didn't lie to Angela, she couldn't. Angela knew her too well.

But this seemed to be saying that she didn't know Brennan as well as she thought she did. And that hurt…a lot. She felt like painting, like hurling masses of dark colored paint at a canvas invoking the spirit of Jackson Pollock, but with a bit of Salvador Dali thrown in, and maybe some musical accompaniment by Marilyn Mason to give it a darker edge. That's what she needed a good cathartic release. But first, first she wanted answers and she wasn't going anywhere until she got them. Even if it meant standing next to a rotting body for the next twelve hours.

To say that the _Squint Squad_ was shocked was an understatement. Even Cam wasn't moving, the thought that Brennan had a daughter was too…too _Not Brennan_, to even think about. They were all staring at the doors through which Brennan had left willing her to return so that their stationary stances could be released. It was as if their disbelief had disabled them, they physically could not move until Brennan returned and sorted out this mess.

Booth stood, as the others did, waiting for Brennan. He did that often he noticed, waited for Bones, ran after Bones, saved Bones, be angry at Bones, watch Bones, listen to Bones. But he had never been this way before, so out of sorts with her (at least that's how he felt). She knew about Parker, she didn't want children, she'd said so countless times. But then again, not wanting them and already having one were two very different things. It had never occurred to him to ask if she already had a child. Maybe the father had died or left her that would account for beliefs on the matter. But still, it felt wrong for her to have kept this from him, a huge part of herself, and a part that was walking around out there without him knowing about it. He should have known about it he concluded and now that he did, he was going to know everything, forget about waiting for her to tell him in her own good time. He was going to know everything as soon as she walked back through those doors. One glance at Angela confirmed his thoughts. Two against one, the two most influential people in her life, she'd tell them everything and then they'd know. Know about Delaney.

The doors opened and Brennan walked in. The daughter walked in too, a couple of paces behind her mother. Mother, the word was an illusion, it did and didn't fit her simultaneously, Booth struggled with the concept, the daughter was shorter than he'd imagined; he'd always imagined taller children with Bones. _No, that wasn't right…Imagined Bones having taller children, yes that was it._ But he had to admit, they seemed to fit. She walked with that same straightness that Bones walked with, the same type of eyes that focused only on what was important at that moment. And for Bones and Delaney that seemed like each other. It was then that he noticed Bones was smiling, one of those small contented smiles he so rarely saw.

"Oh, the body arrived" she said as she climbed the stairs to the platform. But the tone with which she said it was so unlike Bones around, well bones that all five colleagues shifted their heads to look at her more directly. Bones' tone suggested that she, in fact, wasn't worried one way or the other whether the body had arrived or not.

"Don't let me keep you from working" Delaney said, with an Australian accent. Brennan turned her head to look at her, "It's been so long since I've seen you work."

_Australian?_ They thought. Booth, Cam, Angela, Hodgins and Zach each gaped at Delaney. Why did Bones have an Australian daughter? Or at least one with an Australian accent?

Bones looked over at the body and then back to Delaney. "You want to help?"

"Help?" sputtered Cam, "No, I definitely cannot allow that. How old is she even, you shouldn't even be up here." She directed at Delaney. Cam made a move to grab hold of Delaney's arm and drag her down off the platform, but before she could Bones stepped in front of her. There was a look in Bones' eyes, one Cam couldn't with any accuracy properly identify but it felt old, and undeniably primal, as if she was staring into the deepest part of any human being. To be honest she was quite scared, it went far deeper than Cam would ever admit to anybody – for the rest of her life. It was the look of pure protective love, with a warning as clear as any symbol, _Don't Touch_. It was as basic as fire is hot, stay away.

"Delaney is a grad student, she's studying forensic psychology." Brennan said, after Cam had taken a step back.

"Psychology?" Angela asked, "She's into soft science?"

Delaney smirked, "Well, someone had to do it."

"I can bring you a copy of her transcripts if required." Brennan interrupted.

"Where does she study?" Cam asked, clearly avoiding directly looking at Dr. Brennan.

"University of New South Wales." Delaney stated, she then decided to introduce herself, "Delaney Wiltshire, at your service."

"I've heard of you" Zach piped up.

"Me too" said Hodgins looking more surprised by that than anyone else. "You collaborated on a journal article about the psychology behind the myth that using lime degrades a body faster than nature, the one with Dr. Jocelyn Webb."

"That was you?" Cam asked, surprised.

Before Delaney could answer, Booth cut in, "How old are you?" Delaney's lips moved a fraction of a centimeter, which Booth took to mean she was highly amused; he'd seen a similar movement on Bones.

"She's eighteen." Bones stated, "Can we focus on the body?" she immediately moved to look at the human remains splayed out on the table.

**Sorry it took so long to get to the body. hehe :)**

**I promise explanations will come, you'll just have to suffer...along with Booth and Angela and Cam and Zach and even Hodgins.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi All, thanks for reading and reviewing.**

**Now this was supposed to be the chapter in which all (maybe not all but most) questions about Delaney were to be answered. But the Muse ransacked the asylum and escaped with details of the body, and brought some of the plot further forward. So instead of Delaney answers, you get Body questions!**

**So, sorry about that. I really did intend to end your suffering, but please don't blame me, blame the story or Delaney or hey even George who didn't make an appearance this time but will in the next chapter. I promise. (On second thoughts, don't blame George, he's to elderly and sweet.)  
**

**Disclaimer:- Asylum me, Bones them.**

Brennan looked intently at the human remains; they were more flesh than bones. She gave a quick glance to Cam before returning to the body. This was very odd indeed. In all actuality she shouldn't have been able to see the bones of this body. True it was decomposing but not to the extent with which it would have been necessary for Cullen to want her to examine it…her.

"Female." Brennan said.

It had only been a few minutes of complete silence while Brennan worked, but for her friends and colleagues it had been an age. Nobody had even attempted to move from their previous positions, they were fixated on Delaney. Brennan's daughter.

"I'm a distraction." Delaney stated.

Zack nodded, for different reasons than one might think. He had been pondering the significance of an eighteen year old studying Forensic Psychology, who had collaborated on a journal article with a well-known Psychology Professor. Granted he had collaborated on an article with Dr. Brennan but he was 24 and a genius, Delaney seemed to well acclimatized to 'normal' interactions to be a genius. Then again, she was studying Psychology; perhaps she was utilizing her studies in her daily life.

"I'm a distraction." She said again, slightly louder. Brennan was ignoring her; the human remains a far greater pull for her attention. Delaney moved forward, she held out her hand and wiggled her index finger as she got closer and closer to the autopsy table. Cam and Hodgins stood too far away to accurately see what was happening, Zack was still engrossed in his machinations of Delaney's contradictory nature and Booth and Angela watched the wiggling finger wondering what possible result could be achieved by this action.

Delaney's finger neared the autopsy table, its movement a blur in the still background to Brennan's work. Suddenly Brennan's hand shot out from where she had been holding it steady above the body and grabbed hold of Delaney's hand. "Don't touch." She said. Then as if the physical touch of another human being had awoken her analytical mind she turned her head to see whose hand she was holding. Brennan's mouth quirked at one side, Delaney returned the grin and repeated her earlier statement "I'm distracting them."

"Distracting who?"

"Them" she tilted her head in the direction of the others.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive…perhaps you should explain-"

"Explain what, we are meant to be working on this body. And as I have said repeatedly – Booth – I don't do skin! What's with this?" At the mention of his name Booth stood a little straighter, smoothed down his ladybug tie and cleared his throat.

"Cullen specifically asked for you to take a look at the body in its, ah, natural form."

Brennan sighed, "Female, sixteen to twenty, 5'4", Caucasian. Wait, why are you a distraction?" she shifted her attention to Delaney.

"Isn't this body a little messy?"

The looks Delaney received upon voicing that thought caused her to elaborate her statement. "I mean, other than the decomposition…Do you see it?"

Brennan and Zack both looked intently at the human remains while Booth and Angela just looked, well Angela pretended to look. Zack moved closer to the body, his eyes flitting from one aspect of the anatomy to another, Brennan went for a more systematical approach, neither one said anything for a long time.

Finally Booth said, "Do you mean how her face is flayed?"

"And her body…" Hodgins added, the remains appeared to have been cut up, or at least sliced up. The arms had long cut marks, as well as the legs. The face had been assailed by what looked to be a knife, along every edge. The dead girl's cheekbones, jaw, forehead, even the arch of her nose had been cut at, so that her face did indeed looked 'flayed'. And that was just what they could see. The dried blood and added state of the body made it difficult to determine the actual extent of the mutilation. The remains were also still dressed.

"This is why I thought we might need Cam, if it was a body with skin you were bringing me, then it's Cam's specialty. She's the pathologist." Brennan said.

Cam made a move toward the body, as if Brennan had just made a concession. By this time Delaney had moved to the other side of the table, to allow the space for Zack and Cam. "You know what I'd like to know" Angela began, "I'd like to know how you can have an eighteen year old daughter? That would mean you were twelve when she was born."

"I was twelve when she was born." Brennan answered.

"You were pregnant at twelve?" Booth spluttered.

"What? No I-" Brennan was cut off

"Sixteen."

They all looked to who had spoken, it was Delaney. "Sixteen?" Booth inquired.

But there was no answer, Delaney was immobile. She stood next to the remains staring at its left side. Her entire countenance had changed. There no longer stood a calm and contented eighteen year old, now there was a white, horrified ghost of a girl aghast by what she was seeing. In less time than it took for everyone to realize something had upset the girl, Brennan was already standing at her side peering down at the body trying to determine what had scared her so much. Brennan's shocked intake of breath alerted the others to a dangerous presence. Even when she was being shot at, or being attacked my murderous gang leaders Brennan was never shocked, not like she was at this precise moment. She grabbed Delaney by the elbow and yanked her three yards away from the table. "Stay away, don't touch the remains" she barked. To say every one looked startled was a vast understatement. Delaney was still in the same position she had been in before the only difference was that now she was three yards away. Brennan had one arm wrapped protectively her stomach latched onto her waist while the other was delicately playing with the ends of her hair, right between her shoulder blades. She was whispering to her as she frantically searched for the next thing to do.

"Bones, is she…okay?" Booth asked quietly.

"Of course, why didn't I see it? Why _didn't_ I see it?"

"Bones?"

Brennan looked over at Booth, then Angela and finally rested on Zack. "Zack would you take Delaney to my office please…and stay with her." Zack nodded, becoming increasingly confused by the events of the day. As soon as Zack and Delaney were out of earshot Angela cried "Sweetie, what is going on?"

"I can't tell you…yet. I need to make a phone call. I have to be sure. Cam could you please begin a rough autopsy, but don't touch the bone. Do as much as you can."

"Excuse me, did you just _order _me to do something?" Cam replied, more so out of a need to reassert her standing than any real objection. Cam knew an important development when she saw one.

"Please. I promise if this is what I think it is I'm going to need you all on board."

"Bones, what the hell are you talking about?" Booth demanded. But it was too late she was already on the phone.

"I need to speak to Sam."

Soft mumbles could be heard across the line.

"I don't care if he's in a meeting, it's Temperance Brennan, from the Jeffer- just tell him it's about Thailand."

Ten seconds later a lower voice could be heard.

"I'm going to put you on the speaker-"

"No, Temperance don't."

"Too late." Hodgins replied.

"Who's that? No, never mind. Thailand?" the unfamiliar Sam said.

"I think, I'm not sure but I think I've got a sixteen."

"You're more than_ sure_ Temperance; you wouldn't have called unless you were quite positive."

"No, it's just…"

"What?"

"Delaney's here too, that can't just be a coincidence. Well, actually it's not."

"Not what?"

"A coincidence. She said, she thought she saw him."

"Where?" Sam's voice raised, the protective urge in Booth rose too something very bad was going on and Bones wasn't telling him anything.

"In Sydney, a month ago."

"And you have a sixteen?"

"I've removed myself from the case, until we're sure. I've asked Cam-Dr. Sayoran to do the initial autopsy, but if it is…at any rate I need you here."

"Already on my way. I'll see you in twenty minutes." The click of the phone being turned off was ominous. The shadow of _Thailand_, the number _sixteen_ and the peculiar arrival of _Delaney_ spelled trouble in capital letters. And possibly some asterisks and underlines drawn in too. Booth cast a look to Brennan's office. He could see Zack bending down near the couch, which must obviously be where Delaney was lying. How could a number as simple as _sixteen_ terrify two women, one whom he knew from personal experience didn't terrify easily.

**So there you go...this story is getting dangerous (for me that is), who knew they took on lives of their own and didn't listen to where you told them you wanted them to go?** **Why didn't some one warn me? I could have prepared harder, or longer, or - you know what? I'm just going to have to deal with it, same as you guys. At least I know who Delaney. That's some consolation...right?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning! - I am going away for a few days, so I've updated the story so you don't all suffer brain hemorrhages .**

**So, there may be a little gap between updating. **

**On with the story - George is back and Delaney questions answered.**

**Disclaimer: - G,D, B and Sam are mine...alas poor nuncle no others.**

Zack nodded and walked towards Delaney, he didn't want to touch her after what Dr. Brennan did to Cam. A yelling Dr. Brennan was not something Zack wanted to encounter if he could at all help it. Dr. Brennan gave Delaney a little nudge to get her moving, and she followed Zack off the platform, down across the lab and into Brennan's office.

He opened the door for her, it was the gentlemanly thing to do, and besides she didn't look as if she had any strength the open the door on her own. Delaney immediately made for the couch, she practically flopped herself onto the cushions and lay there, concentrating on her breathing.

"Thank you Zack."

"Do you want me to get you anything, you are very pale."

"Perhaps a bucket or a bin?"

"Do you believe you are going to…?"

"It's a distinct possibility."

Zack moved around the office, grabbed Dr. Brennan's trash bin and crouched next to Delaney. "Here."

She closed her eyes and breathed heavily, every so often one breath would come out shaky.

"Do you want me to do…something?" Zack asked finding the silence and her breathing unbearable.

"Could you talk? About anything, just talk."

Zack thought for a second, discarded four topics of discussion that were not appropriate for a distressed person to converse about and chose to discuss a common entity, "The first time I met Dr. Brennan I was so nervous my voice raised three octaves and then proceeded to wobble about producing sounds similar to an adolescent boy's voice breaking," Delaney giggled, "That's not the funny part" Zack continued, Delaney laughed harder.

"The first time I met Tempe…" She immediately paused, as if realizing this was something she couldn't talk about. The room was silent for a moment.

"Was Dr. Brennan really twelve when she had you?"

Delaney laughed again, "Oh, I'm so sorry…I didn't realize the security guard - George, would tell everyone, I thought he'd just inform Tempe. It's…Tempe's not my mother. She's my, well she's my guardian."

"Dr. Brennan is your guardian?" Zack repeated.

"Yes, and when I arrived here this morning, I thought that if I told the security guard 'Hi, can you please let Dr. Brennan know that her ward is here' he wouldn't believe me, but if I said 'Hi, can you let my mum, sorry mom, Americans say Mom, let my Mom know I'm here' then he'd be too shocked to ask for any more information." She paused and glanced at Zack who looked astounded. As he thought about it, it became clear that it was true. Any person knowing Dr. Brennan would be too focused on the news of a daughter to do much else. Wasn't that exactly what had happened to him? "And besides, it takes forever to explain the concept of a ward to someone; I just wanted to get in here and see Tempe and explain later. Sorry."

"What for?"

"For lying to you, well not actually to you but for making you think Tempe had an eighteen year old daughter. I already apologized to George. But he wasn't supposed to tell everyone just Tempe."

"Perhaps your plan worked a little too well."

"Perhaps it did" she said with a laugh. "You know what I've always wondered," Delaney rolled over and propped herself up on her elbows. Zack looked up, his investigation of Dr. Brennan's couch momentarily suspended, "Why do we have steps and stairs? And how many steps until they become stairs and how many stairs until you get a staircase, 'cause you know you never get a stepcase…why is that?"

Zack grinned, "I've often thought that myself, but I've never felt comfortable enough to ask."

"Why not?"

"They might think I'm weird."

"Don't they already think you're weird?"

"Weirder then."

"What were you going to ask me before?"

"Before when?"

"Before you told me about meeting Tempe for the first time."

"Ah, I decided it wasn't appropriate for someone in your condition…" Zach was going to elaborate but he noticed, for perhaps the first time in a feat of human behavioral analysis unlike his usual countenance that Delaney wasn't listening.

When Delaney had first walked into the Jeffersonian she had been hoping that Tempe would magically and unusually be hanging out in the foyer, as if by some mystical pre-knowledge, she would know that today her ward would be showing up from across the globe. It was too much to ask for.

Delaney had spent a month working on a way to get to Washington, and the Jeffersonian and Tempe without anyone knowing. It was safer that way; it always was safer that way. No one knowing who you were completely or what your plans were, so that if you dropped of the map for a couple of days nobody would freak out. But that if you weren't where you said you were going to be then they would, freak out that is. It was a fine line she had perfected for many years. Being unreachable, untouchable even, but still maintaining enough reliability that if you said you'd be there at 10, and didn't show up people would worry. It was hard to create that duality, a 'free-spirit' reliable persona. But somehow she had made it work. Which was why when she thought she saw him, she immediately rang the airline and booked a ticket to Argentina. After that she had raced home, to the uni dorms, let her R.A. know that she was off on a jaunt…again, packed her bag and left. Once she had arrived in Argentina, she had taken a breath, taken a couple of days and thought that perhaps she had been seeing things, overreacted…but it was better to be safe. She decided since she was in this part of the world, a trip north was in order…perhaps to the United States of America. Did she know anyone there she wondered…well, there was that Tempe person, who was she again? Oh yeah, her guardian.

This was why this morning when she had finally arrived in Washington, planes being too easy to follow you understand – buses and hitch-hiking all the way people, Tempe was the first port of call. Which was why at 9:42am George had greeted a petite looking young woman and asked her name.

"Excuse me Miss, I'm George" the security guard had said.

"Hi, I'm Delaney Wil-…Brennan. I'm looking for my mother, is she here?" She couldn't believe how easily her plan had almost failed. He wouldn't understand the term ward. Or if he did, he'd think 'orphan' and she wasn't! Not when she had Tempe…and Sam.

"And who would your mother be, darling?"

He hadn't meant to hurt her, she knew that, but still that term of endearment so common with older folk had caused her insides to stagger, she had to remind herself to calm down. "Temperance Brennan." She had managed to choke out.

A quick look at the man proved he had concocted his own reason for her reaction.

"_Darling_…" the girl froze, why was that such a hard question to answer he wondered but as she choked out – Temperance Brennan, George understood. His good doctor had a daughter, one that no one knew about, and by the looks of it the daughter didn't know she wasn't known about.

_Such a hard way of learning that piece of information_ George thought. _He had thought Dr. Brennan was more considerate than that, when she wasn't being oblivious that is._

"Well, I'll just go tell her you're here then shall I?"

All the poor girl could do was nod. George walked into the lab, making a beeline for Dr. Brennan who was arguing with her Special Agent again. But as he neared the platform, his uneasiness returned. Something about this didn't quite feel right. Dr. Brennan was very particular about family. Family was important, so important it often hurt her. He wanted to get her alone, but knew she liked information upfront, and he didn't want to keep that poor girl, young woman, waiting. So he coughed.

After he'd followed Dr. Brennan out to greet her daughter and they'd hugged and talked for a little bit, the young woman came over to him, followed by Dr. Brennan.

"George, hi. I just wanted to let you know that Tempe isn't really my mother. She's more like my guardian."

"Guardian? You mean you're adopted?" he didn't quite understand what she meant. You were either legitimate, illegitimate or adopted…right?

"Something like that, I just. I really wanted to see her first. Before explanations. I'm sorry if I shocked you." She looked back to Dr. Brennan after she said that.

"Yes George, I'm sorry about any misunderstandings brought on by Delaney's deception. It was a signal to me, about who she was."

"Of course, Dr. Brennan. I completely understand." Which of course, he didn't. But since he liked her so much and his statement really did seem to have settled the girl down, now that Dr. Brennan was here, he decided to let it go, forgive and forget and all that.

**Okay so maybe I'm a little biased, but I just find George exceptionally cute. Does any one else agree?**

**So there you go, Not her REAL daughter...but there's more weirdness to come, and don't forget people only you, Zack and George know the truth now. (Well, part of the truth).  
**

**Luv ya's.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi all. Well, I know I said it would only be a few days til I posted BUT - I arrived home later than I thought, then my computer did this extremely weird color change thing, so I had to try to fix that for a few days, finally I did some funky maneourve that worked, and then I had my gorgeous beta - ae - help me out. And she has informed me that I've been spelling Cam's last name wrong, at least according to the fox website so...it's now Saroyan, apparently I've been spelling it Sayoran, whoops ;).**

**Ok, so one with the show and I don't own Bones because if I did you'd all know me already!  
**

In exactly twenty minutes, the doors to the lab slid open and in walked six men, all in dark black suits. Booth noticed they all discreetly carried handguns while Angela noticed that all six men were tall, rugged and hot. The leader calmly walked straight toward the platform, barely flinching when the alarm sounded. Brennan waved off the security guards and turned to look at him. No one had been able to get her to talk, for while waiting for the mysterious Sam to arrive, she had been merely looking from the body on the table to her office where Delaney was lying down. Cam and Hodgins had proceeded to examine the body, carefully cataloguing what they found, although twenty minutes hadn't produced much evidence.

The tall, brooding, _hot_, African-American man took one look at the body on the table and gave one specific order to the men accompanying him, "Clear the room." Angela felt shivers go up her spine; this man clearly was an exceptional man. His presence felt extremely close to Booth's, but much more dangerous, as if the things he had seen had robbed him of the sensitivity and warmth Booth still had.

His men immediately reacted to his order; they rounded up every worker in the lab and escorted them outside. One man was stationed at the door to Dr. Brennan's office, where Zack and Delaney were now secluded inside. Within five minutes the only people still in the lab were Brennan, Booth, Angela, Cam, Hodgins, Zack, Delaney and the mysteriously efficient six men.

"Sam," Brennan said, breaking the heavy silence.

"Temperance," he responded before drawing her into a hug. "It's been far too long." For a moment Booth believed that _Sam_ was going to kiss her, but he only released her from his arms. "So, what has been discovered?" he asked the team.

"She's most likely between sixteen and twenty, died about two weeks ago, violently, exsanguinations," Cam replied.

"Analysis on the sixteen?"

"Same weapon that cut her."

"Post-mortem though," Hodgins added.

"Different," Sam stated.

"New," responded Brennan.

"He's changed his M.O."

"Look. Not to go all 'tell-me-now' on you, but it would be nice to know what the hell you are talking about. And by the way, M.O. gives me the 'its-been-done-before' vibe, something that never works out well," Booth said, interrupting Sam and Brennan's conversational flow.

"Is there somewhere we can go to…?" Sam began.

"No! No more out of the loop discussion, no more 'it's a highly classified secret and you don't need to know.' I need to know more than you need to keep things a secret!" Booth practically shouted, keeping his voice level barely under inappropriate.

Brennan gave him a very unimpressed side-glance. The fact that she didn't even look at him properly only served to further anger him and fuel his desire to know.

"As I was going to say," Sam began again, "is there somewhere we can go that has the correct equipment for our systems?" He directed the question at Brennan. She nodded and led the way to Angela's office. Everyone followed; there was no way that they were going to be left out of the loop again.

"I'll just link up to the site…password?" Brennan said. She had activated the Angelator, so now everyone knew exactly whom they were dealing with. Brennan was trying to infiltrate the MI5 website.

"I'll do it," replied Sam. Booth realized then that Sam must be part of that organization.

"Bones, is Sam MI5?"

"Yes."

"Why did you call him and not the FBI or the CIA?"

"Sam is a liaison Agent between the CIA and the FBI. He became one after what happened in Thailand."

"And what happened in Thailand?"

"Not yet."

At that moment, the Angelator sprang into action. Countless documents and files were downloaded into the mainframe. Pictures of little girls smiling at photographers filled the screen in haphazard ways, followed by pictures of mutilated corpses, without date stamps or any other signifying details.

"Welcome to the most terrifying time of my life," Sam said.

"Is this man going to let us out?" Zack asked.

"Probably not, he's guarding us; they tend to be kind of one-minded about that sort of thing," Delaney answered.

"Where are Dr. Brennan and everyone else going?"

"Are there computers around here that could handle massive amounts of information being downloaded quickly?"

"Yes, many."

There was along pause before Delaney asked, "Which ones?"

"Oh, well, I guess the most likely, due to the fact that we are confined to the lab, would be the Angelator."

"Right, the holographic machine."

"You know about it?" Zach asked, rather surprised.

"Sure, Tempe tells me everything that goes on in her life."

"And you tell her, too?"

"No, not everything. It's harder for me to get information out to her."

"Why? Isn't she just your guardian? It's not that hard to keep in touch."

_Zach doesn't understand_, Delaney reminded herself, _just because he's a genius doesn't mean that he can read minds and put together itty bitty pieces of information any better than the countless other people who have tried to figure out your past._ She laughed, "No, it's not hard to keep in touch, it's just knowing the right way to say things…In case you haven't noticed Tempe is very protective."

"Yes." Zack's brain was working at a hundred miles a minute; he knew something bigger was going on with Dr. Brennan and Delaney than any one was saying. The body still lying on the autopsy table guarded by two of those suited men was screaming at him to be investigated. But if Dr. Brennan had called in this new person, then he was willing to be patient and wait. Besides, Delaney was turning out to be much more interesting than he had first thought. "So, what do you know about structural integrity?"

"One of the reasons why I don't drive," she replied with a smile.

Angela was consumed with worry, not only had she been blown away by the development of Bren's daughter, but now there was this new man working better with Bren than even Booth. This was a very bizarre occurrence. She was starting to doubt her skills as an observer. She had been so confident that Bren was attracted to Booth, and he was (still) obviously attracted to her, but this Sam guy, the way she let him lead her around, and did whatever he asked without question was slightly scary. Actually it was more than slightly scary, it was downright frightening. Angela didn't know what to be more upset by; that her best friend was completely ignoring her and ignoring that anything important had developed that may be in need of discussion or that she was more interested in a girl than she was in finding the murderer of that other girl, the dead one.

"Okay, we're almost ready. Dr…."

"Saroyan," Brennan supplied.

"Saroyan, can you please return to the body and map out the incisions and visual degree of depth onto this?" Sam handed her Angela's hand held computer. Cam looked slightly confused, but complied; she could handle a few more minutes of being in the dark, but when she got back, she was going to demand answers.

"I want to tell you a story."

"I want to know what's going on," Booth interrupted.

"Booth, story first, questions later," Brennan replied.

"In 1993, the twelve-year-old daughter of the Chief of Scotland Yard's niece went missing." Sam put up her picture; they all looked at the slightly pudgy blonde girl with two missing teeth. "Four months later after all but the family had given up hope, a phone call was placed to the home, stating the known whereabouts of their daughter. Upon arrival they found a decomposed body." Sam pointed toward the first picture, lying on top of the snow was a body, mostly bones. "It was identified by dental records as Tabitha Shue. It was her. Upon further investigation of the body it was discovered that her torso had been slashed at by a serrated blade. The cuts were so deep and so imprecise that she had bled to death within a few hours. The killer was never found." Sam looked around the room to see how they were processing this new information. Other than Angela looking slightly ill they looked terse, but fine, and Sam took it as a sign to continue. "A year passed and since no killings had resurfaced it was decided that Tabitha's death was a one-off, until 1996 when another young girl was reported missing. Katie Rowe was the twelve-year-old daughter of one of England's most prestigious oil barons." Again, Sam put a picture up. This time they were looking at a demure Indian girl in a rose pink sari. "Three months later, the family received a phone call, telling them where their daughter was. We found her body the same as the first. This time a different blade had been used, but the end result was the same. Exsanguination." Sam took a deep breath and said, "The next year another twelve-year-old girl went missing." The picture this time was of a tall slim African-English girl. "Allison Walker disappeared after tennis practice. It was two months before the phone call was placed, this time though we had been tracing every call made to the house since she went missing. The call came from a phone box outside an abandoned bowling alley. It was where the phone call had directed us to find the girl. She had been killed similarly to the others, but again with a different blade." This time Sam put the three photos of the girls – before and after – in a timeline, showing year and country.

"You forgot about the numbers," a voice said.

They all turned to see Delaney, Zack and a third suit man standing at the doorway.

**Ooohhh! Mysterious:)...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi guys, thanks for reading. Now, I'd like to ask anyone who is reading to please review so that I know how you are all taking the developments in this story, ;) **_  
_

"_You forgot about the numbers."_

Sam looked at Delaney and said, "I thought I told you to keep her in the office."

"I…tried?" replied the man in the suit.

"I can be quite persuasive. Besides, you might need Dr. Addy's expertise," Delaney stated.

"What numbers?" asked Hodgins.

"When we found Tabitha, the first victim, her body was pretty badly cut up, so the only real map we had of her individual wounds were the bone markers left over by the impressions of the blade. At first, we thought it was just a slash in the wrong direction. Vertical instead of horizontal, like all the rest. But when we found a similar wound in the same place on Katie and Allison we realised what was happening."

"Which was?" asked Booth.

"On the left side of the torso, just above the seventh rib, was a downward stroke. On Katie it was more of two semi-circles facing each other on the sixth rib and a downward stroke and slightly upward angled stroke on the seventh. Allison's left side showed an upward stroke and curve a few centimeters to the right on the sixth rib and a curved stroke on the seventh. We took into account what it must have looked like when the flesh was still attached and realized they were numbers; a one, a two and a three." Sam fiddled with the computer keyboard and brought up close-ups of the three girls' ribs.

"Who…wait. How did you know about the numbers?" Booth directed his question at Delaney.

"I'd rather Sam finish his story first," Brennan said.

"There's more?" Booth returned, all the while thinking how extremely protective Bones was being of her daughter. _How could she have never told me such an important part of her life? All this time she's been spouting off ideas about how she's never going to have children and I'll never be able to change her mind, and she already had one._

Sam nodded at Brennan's request. "A year and a half went by and no other girls went missing and turned up like the first three. I was beginning to believe that whoever had started doing this had grown tired of it, or died or something. I guess I just really wanted it to be over."

"Wait, you where in charge of these cases?" asked Booth.

"Yes. Not the first one because I wasn't based in Glasgow, but when it became a serial killer case, I was assigned. Anyway, it had been a while and no more kidnappings had occurred so I asked to be transferred to another city. My bosses decided to send me to Spain as a delegate on inter-governmental relationships. It was 1999, and I was at a bar in Barcelona when my counterpart with the Spanish government called me to tell me his twelve-year-old daughter had just been abducted. Evangeline was like a niece to me…" Sam stopped; Brennan reached out her hand and placed it on his arm. "We sent out missing person's reports and flooded the news stations with countless requests. I was just hoping that this was a normal abduction, but in the back of my mind I was afraid. One month later, the Milams got the call. We found her laid out on a secluded beach fifty miles away. The first thing I looked for was a number, and she had it…a four." The picture of Evangeline popped up on the Angelator. A beautiful girl peered out from out under a mop of curly red hair. She was laughing hysterically at something off camera. Right next to it was the body at the beach, half submerged beneath the sand with a clear view of the four. "Strangely, the killer had kept the same blade that he had used on Allison, or at least the same type of blade. The wounds were less deep as well. The forensics team determined that the killer had found his pattern and he would only accelerate from now on. I couldn't stay in Barcelona anymore, but I also didn't want to return to England, so when MI5 asked me to go to Cambodia, I complied. While I was there, the ambassador's secretary's daughter was abducted."

"Let me guess…she was twelve," Booth intervened.

"Booth, you're being insensitive," replied Bones. Booth was momentarily stunned; Bones had just told him that _he_ was being _insensitive_! He took a minute and realized she was right.

"Sorry, it just seems a little bit strange that everywhere he goes this mad-cap killer follows. Sorry if I find that a little strange," he ended sarcastically.

"I thought that, too, that was why while I worked in conjunction with the Cambodians and our own people to find Faye Witchard, I researched the possibility that one of my contingent was the killer." The picture of Faye came up, a slightly geeky looking girl with round Harry Potter glasses peered over the top of a thick book.

"I meant that perhaps you are the killer."

"He's the not the killer, Booth," replied Brennan.

"He could be."

"He's not."

"How do you know?"

"Trust me Booth, I know. There is no possible way that he could be."

"But-"

"So…In relatively a month, another call was placed leading us to Faye. She was in an old nightclub, one that had been closed down due to a fire." Sam seemed eager to finish his story.

"Did she have a five?" asked Angela. She was a having a hard time focusing. It was distracting having Delaney standing so close to her. How did Brennan manage to follow conversations with both Booth and Sam? But then again she must somehow have known this story beforehand, otherwise why would she have rung Sam first, and known the significance of the sixteen. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed suddenly. "Sixteen!"

"Angela?" Hodgins inquired.

"The girl out there, she has a sixteen, are you saying this maniac killer guy is here in America?"

There was a long pause.

"He was definitely here," Sam answered.

"Please continue," said Zack. He had missed out on the first part of the story and didn't want to be without any new information if it were available to him.

"Okay. So, the Cambodians were devastated, in terms of the political ramifications of this development, as well as the personal and social ones of having a cross-country serial killer. They were extremely worried. But that's really not my problem, or yours. My bosses offered me another station in South Africa, but I instead asked for some time off. I really needed to get away from everything. I went to Bhutan. And no Agent Booth, there were no killings of twelve-year-old girls by the serial killer while I was there."

"Hey, I wasn't going to ask," he proffered in his defence.

"Sure you were," stated Delaney. She seemed to be finding Booth's reactions rather amusing, thought Brennan; she made a mental note to remind herself to ask Delaney about that later.

"The next year a governmental official from the Bhutanese government contacted me and let me know that the British and American governments were trying to contact me. They were having an inter-governmental dispute regarding a dig site in Thailand. I had a proven track record with dissolving these kinds of disputes. When I got there, a small town called Kanchanaburi in the province of Sai Yok, I met three Forensic Anthropologists, all vying for the rights to a dig site just outside the boundaries of a Tiger Temple there. That's where I met Tempe."

"I was the Forensic Anthropologist from America, and the other two were a married couple from England, Wayne and Judy Darling."

"They had two daughters, twins, Guinevere and Genevieve."

"They were twelve," said Delaney.

**Reviews are helpful!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Ack! She exclaims as she wipes the cobwebs of the dusty story**

**Sorry about the wait, something came up with the Muse's family, something about 'whole family dying on cruise boat fiasco'? And then there was all that pesky writer's block contraption to worry about.**

**Disclaimer :-** **As always the Asylum belongs to my brain and Bones does not, although if I were crazy enough it might, or at least I would believe it did, giggles inappropriately**

"_They were twelve"_

Brennan looked carefully at Delaney for some time and no one said a word. Just as Booth was beginning to lose his last semblance of patience Dr. Saroyan returned.

"I've got it."

"Good," Sam said. He reached out and took the hand held computer from her, uploading it into the Angelator. The machine whirred and soon an image of a skeleton with numerous slash marks appeared. "Can we run a diagnostic from here or do I need to send the information back?"

"It would take too long because Angela would have to design and input the statistics. Send this to your people," replied Brennan.

"Why? What would take too long?" inquired Angela.

"We need to determine whether this is actually the same person or simply someone who chose to carve a sixteen into this girl," answered Brennan.

"How are you going to find that out?" Booth seemed dubious.

"We have created a catalogue of all of the blade movements. We will be able to tell if the pressure, direction and blade type is the same," replied Sam.

"I thought you said that he kept changing blades," said Hodgins.

"Well, yes, but only for the first three girls; after that he kept using only one type of blade."

"Can we get back to your story? I'd rather we just hurry up and get to the present," stated Booth.

"Sure. As I was saying, I went to Thailand and met Tempe and Wayne…and Judy." Sam paused and took a deep breath. It seemed to resound throughout the office; Cam broke the silence by shifting through some of the papers on Angela's desk. She had missed out on the back-story and was desperately trying to figure out why all these young girls were filling up the Angelator.

Sam didn't speak again.

The others waited, but as the minutes passed, they began to get restless. They needed to know what was going on. Finally, Brennan spoke. "We had been at the site for two months by the time Sam showed up. We got along personally, just not professionally. That's why we needed a mediator."

"Personally, but not professionally? Why does that not sound like you?" Booth asked. Brennan shot him a look, one of the ones she was famous for around the lab. Delaney snorted. A highly unsophisticated sound, Angela observed, but wholly appropriate. She was beginning to like Brennan's daughter, she could see the strength, compassion and humor of the mother had been handed down to the daughter. She was still fuming about the deception and lies, but something about the case they were working on made her want to give the girl some slack. Not Brennan of course. Oh no, Brennan deserved every ounce of anger she threw her way.

"Anyway, once Sam had figured out the best way for us to work together everything was fine."

"Until.…"

"Until…Guinevere went missing." They all looked to the Angelator, expecting it to start whirring, to come to life, to show them the innocent face of Guinevere the sixth victim. Nothing happened.

"So cliché," said Angela.

"Well…aren't we going to see her?" asked Booth, rather impatiently.

"No. You can't," replied Sam.

"Why not?"

"Because, she's a twin."

"So…?"

"Booth," interrupted Brennan. Booth moved his vision to encompass both Sam and Bones. She had come up closer to Sam once again and for some reason that really irritated him. "Would you be patient for a minute and calm down? The reason for no picture is quite obvious."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is, when you listen to the rest of the information."

"How can I listen to the rest of the information when the story keeps getting longer and more suspicious?"

"That's because you keep…butting in." Her eyebrow quirked up as she glanced towards Angela, a silent plea for confirmation of the use of the right word, Angela perceptibly nodded.

"Hate to break up the love-fest and all, but can we focus here?" Normally, Cam would have found Booth and Brennan's interactions amusing, but today it just wasn't cutting it.

"Right, so with Guinevere missing and a short time to find her before it was too late, we collaborated with the Thai government. They didn't want this newsflash getting out."

"Is that why we've never heard of this serial killer before?" asked Hodgins, the conspiracy theorist part of his brain working overtime.

"Partly-"

"Partly?!?"

"Booth, stop it. If you can't be quiet I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Augh?" the slightly strangled sound of someone realizing they were too close to the line of no return erupted from Booths' throat.

Sam began again. "Within two weeks a phone call was made to the Tiger Temple-"

"That's where we were staying," Brennan said.

"You were staying in the Tiger Temple?" Angela squeaked. "As in with Tigers?"

"Yep, there was this one really cute one called Sky, although in Thai his name was --"

"Temperance." Sam suspended the conversation with one word, Bones' name. Booth's jaw clenched tighter, _Where did this guy get off using her name so casually?_

"Wayne and Judy went with two bodyguards to the coordinates stated in the phone call. They disappeared for twenty-four hours." A photograph of the dig site in Thailand popped up; it was a group photo with a much younger Brennan standing in a ten-foot hole, next to a crouching man and woman, presumably Wayne and Judy. In the background were two twelve year old girls playing hopscotch, their faces blacked out by computer-generated boxes.

"The other daughter, Genevieve, was terrified," Brennan began, her voice strained by the emotional memory. "I was staying in the Temple with her while we waited for news about her parents and sister."

"They were in a car crash. But you have to understand, in Thailand if you die in a crash, they simply pull your body off the side of the road, but because they were white, the local police took a greater interest. We may never have found them otherwise." Sam checked that Brennan was okay to continue first. "We found Guinevere, the body was pale but the cut marks were the best I'd ever seen of his work. It took us a while to figure out how she had died. There wasn't enough blood loss from the body to be exsanguination and she was not smothered or poisoned. In the end, it was Genevieve who diagnosed her. Guinevere has a congenital heart disease from birth; it was the only signifier of difference between the girls. She couldn't take the stress of the kidnapping and mutilation and her heart just stopped beating."

"And now, Genevieve is a twin-less orphan," said Delaney.

Everyone turned to look at Delaney, the tone with which she had illuminated Genevieve's situation sent chills down their spines, the complete lack of emotion but depth of understanding was too conflicted. Angela and Zack unconsciously stepped away from her.

**So there you go...hopefully it is now in the present, no more backstory to deal with. But you never know that ol' Muse had been wobbling all over the place lately. ;)**

**Oh and reviews are always welcomed lovingly into this story, and who knows if you make a suggestion of where you'd like or think this story is going, The Asylum may be accomodating... think about it - a pick your own adventure Bones!?!**

**Luv Arcadya**


	9. Chapter 9

**Okay so here's the next chapter...finally. I promise I'll update sooner from now on.**

**As previously, Disclaimer: - Bones them, Asylum me and all the jazz that goes with it.**_  
_

_Okay,_ thought Booth. _I need to figure this out. The killer likes twelve-year-old girls. Doesn't matter which country he's in as long as they're accessible. Kidnap them, torture them and dump the bodies…but rings the parents to let them know where to find the bodies? _Booth's face scrunched up, something wasn't tracking right, he could feel it.

"I don't get it, why ring the family?" he asked.

"That, Agent Booth, was the very thing that had us mystified for so long. This killer had been active since 1993 and Guinevere died in 2001. It was a long run for a serial killer, eight years, considering he wasn't just national, he was global. We should have caught him…I should have caught him." Sam closed his eyes; he brought his hand up to his forehead as if to wipe the memories out of his conscious mind.

"So what happened next? Did he just stop or…" Angela trailed off.

"No, it seems he became fixated on Guinevere-"

"But she was dead."

"Zack!" Brennan exclaimed

"A little less on the blunt when pointing out the obvious Zack-O," replied Hodgins.

"Yes, but she was a twin," Sam started.

"Oh! Oh…oh." Everyone turned to look at Booth, mostly because they had no idea what he had just realized. "Genevieve."

That one word revealed everything.

"Yes, by the time I had informed Genevieve of her parent's death, and given her some time to grieve, he had gotten into the hotel I had moved them to."

"I was in the next room, but I never even heard anything," Brennan stated.

"So, you're saying the day after Genevieve finds out that this guy killed her whole family he kidnaps her, too?" Cam asked.

_BEEP_

Sam's pager interrupted the moment. He glanced down and read the data. "That was quick." He moved to the Angelator and opened up the incoming mail. The sixteen fit perfectly with the killer's MO.

"It's him," Brennan breathed. She immediately sat down and covered her face; Sam stood stock still staring at the proof of _his_ return. Delaney moved to stand next to Brennan; she placed her hand on her shoulder.

_That doesn't seem like a very daughterly movement,_ thought Angela, _it seems more of a motherly gesture. What am I missing here?_

"So, he took Genevieve. Did she die, too?" asked Booth.

Silence filled the room as neither Sam nor Bones answered him.

"No, she survived," said Zack.

"What? Why do you think that?" asked Sam.

"That would be the only logical reason for you to not show us their pictures. One of them would have to be still alive, as a protective measure. If as you say the killer became infatuated and fixated on Guinevere and then abducted Genevieve, the only reason to protect their physical appearance would be to protect them, or in this case her, from being broadcast publicly."

"Genevieve is still alive?" inquired Booth.

"Yes," Sam answered.

Angela watched as Sam ran his hand through his short hair and sat down next to Brennan. Instinctively he reached down and placed a hand on her thigh. _An intimate gesture_, she thought, _but no relationshippy vibes…interesting. _

"The killer-" (Sam was cut off by a disgusted snort emanating from Delaney). "The killer cut up Genevieve pretty much the same as Guinevere, but because she didn't have the congenital heart defect, she survived. We don't know much about what happened about the time she spent with him as she either can't remember or won't talk about it." As he said this, his eyes flicked to Delaney.

Booth picked up on it immediately. _Delaney…is…Genevieve? No! That can't be possible. Genevieve was twelve in 2001 and its 2007 now, that would make her eighteen…and Delaney is eighteen,_ he realized. He looked toward Bones; she still had her head in her hands. Booth understood now, and felt a little embarrassed for jumping to conclusions.

"So Genevieve got away?" asked Cam, clearly still not following the developments Booth had picked up on.

"No. She didn't. He let her go. The only thing we know for certain is that the last thing he told her was 'It's finished now'."

"What does that even mean?"

"We're not sure."

Brennan finally lifted her head, "We need to identify number sixteen. Angela I'll need her face, Zack can you get dental x-rays and try to identify her that way. Hodgins-" (he merely nodded). She took a deep breath and said, "I'm going to take Delaney back to my place and go through my old files, maybe something will come up. Sam can you send out inquiries to other morgues asking if similar bodies have shown up throughout the years, with numbers between seven to fifteen?"

"Sure, but you can't go home. I need to keep an eye on you here. I'll send someone to your place to pick up the files."

"No. It's complicated. They're all over the house. And Delaney needs a break."

"I can't let you go by yourself. He's still out there and he knows you're the closest connection he has to Genevieve."

"Well, then we're lucky she's not here then aren't we!" Brennan's voice started to rise.

"Bones, I'll go with you."

"Yeah, Sam, I'll take Booth."

Sam took a good, long look at Booth, trying to read his intentions. "Okay. Be back within two hours or I'm sending the cavalry."

As Brennan, Delaney and Booth started moving towards to the door, Booth leaned over and whispered, "That means he'll-"

"I know what that means, Booth. Fan of Westerns…remember?"

"Little Lady," he replied while tipping the brim of his imaginary hat.

Delaney quirked a small smile at the exchange before turning slightly to wave goodbye to Zack.

**Next up the car ride to Brennan's apartment, maybe some apartment too.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Presenting the long awaited car ride to Brennan's apartment!**

**Disclaimer: - not mine in any way shape or form, except of course for the characters I made up and the situations our favorite people find themselves in.**

Delaney rested her feet against the back of the passenger side seat. She considered that for the situation to truly fit the feel of what was happening, it should have been night time and the lights should have cast eerily decadent anti-shadows against the window. But, as usually happens, real life fell far short of the fictional and it was midday, the sun shone happily and mocked the occupants of the car.

Brennan was staring at the dashboard, trying to ignore the sidelong glances Booth kept giving her. It wasn't the time to start analysing him and his bewildering actions towards her. She had to figure out who this sixteenth girl was and find the other girls. _He said it was over! _She thought indignantly. _How dare he come back after all this time. Genevieve had moved on, as best she could, under the circumstances._ Bones sighed heavily.

Booth heard it and felt even worse. He had decided that it was a distinctly high possibility that Delaney was Genevieve. The only thing he couldn't figure out was why she kept saying she was her daughter. Booth's focus on driving slowly slipped away as autopilot guided him to Bones' apartment, and his mind deliberated on the whys of this increasingly frustrating case. _If I were Sam and one of the victims was freed, what would I do?_

"You didn't have to leave University," Brennen stated. "You could have just rung me and I would have paid for the plane ticket straight here." For a minute Booth wondered who she was talking to. Delaney had been so quiet he had _almost _forgotten she was accompanying them back to Bones' apartment.

"I took a leave of absence. They were fine about it."

"They were fine about it - I'm not. You'll never get your Doctorate if you continue to skip whole semesters!"

"I've never skipped a semester in my life. The longest I've been away for is a month, and that was to accompany my Professor on a working collaboration with Forensic Scientists in Oz."

"Still…a little warning would have been nice. You went to South America before you came here."

"I needed the distraction, time to think. Besides, I'm only eighteen and I already have my Bachelors. That's three years! I think I can afford to dabble in life first."

"I think you've had a little bit too much experience in _life_."

"Oh, like you can make the comparison."

"Whoa, okay guys…girls," Booth started. "Let's just settle down, we're almost there." _Well, at least they fight like family, _he thought. He would have chuckled if it hadn't been so heated, and there was the high possibility both Bones and Delaney would have decked him.

They ascended the stairs to Brennan's apartment in silence. The only sound was the slight scuffing of their shoes contacting the floor. The click of the lock in the door made Booth think of the cocking of a gun. He absentmindedly poised his hand over his gun. Brennan was so used to this action from Booth she barely noticed it, but Delaney did, and it set on her edge. She shifted her weight closer to Brennan.

They entered the apartment; Brennan immediately went about the house picking out seemingly unrelated items, books, magazines, cds, even odd pillows and memorabilia from past expeditions. She pulled out a box and dumped all the items into it.

"Okay, I only have to get one more thing now," she stated.

"What's that?" asked Booth.

"It's the duffle bag I hid in the lift loft of the gym where I work out."

"Are you serious?"

"What's in the bag?" asked Delaney, who had settled herself on the couch during Brennan's rush about the house while Booth had stood dumbly in the middle of the room, fixated on Brennan.

"It's the key I need to unlock the codes I've placed in these items," Brennan answered.

"That's seems like an awful amount of work to go through for one simple batch of old files," replied Booth.

"I may not have been entirely forthcoming about this case."

"Really?" The sarcasm was lost on Bones, but not on Delaney Booth noticed.

"It's not exactly old files, but more of a collection of information I thought at the time was irrelevant, yet couldn't disregard. Besides Genevieve made me keep it, so it seemed there was a good possibility it was important."

"So onwards to the…what did you call it? Lift Loft?"

"Yes, the lift loft…the extra lift bit at the top of the building, where the pulleys are and the maintenance men go."

"Ah, the lift loft…."

"Alliteration for the soul," Delaney remarked as she opened the door and started toward the car.

**Okay guys, tell me what you think...it's really easy - push the purple/lavender button and type away,**

**author will be eternally grateful and may even give you some teasers and spoilers for upcoming chapters...(see I'm bribing you)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Note: No idea if Brennan's gym was actually depicted on the show. If it was I can't remember so…go with it please, or tell me and I'll fix it.**

Booth noticed that the anticipation of getting to see the infamous lift loft put the car ride to Bones' gym onto the backburner in terms of time. It seemed to go very quickly and soon enough they were standing outside the closed gym.

"How do we get in?" he asked.

"Climb," Bones answered.

"Climb?"

Delaney moved toward the left side of the building and pulled the garbage bin closer to the wall. She quickly and delicately stepped up onto the roof of the contraption, with a small hand she grabbed hold of the window sill and hoisted herself up a couple of feet, arched her body backwards and somehow (to Booth's complete amazement) managed to grab hold of the next storey's window ledge. Bones cast a quick glance towards Booth, noticed his expression and quietly said, "Rock-climbing."

Delaney repeated the process to the next storey and finally pulled herself up over the gutter and disappeared onto the roof of the three-storey building.

A minute later, Booth asked, "So…how did you get the owner to let you use his lift loft?"

"I didn't. I just put it there. It's quite safe."

"What? Do you check on it every time you come here or something?" Booth expected Bones to get he was trying to be humorous. It didn't exactly pan out the way he had hoped when all she said was, "Yes," as the fire exit door swung open to reveal a partially dishevelled Delaney waving them inside. He quickly followed Bones and Delaney up the flights of stairs as he kept up his mantra – _it's not illegal if someone from inside the building let me in, it's definitely not trespassing._

After reaching the top of the building and waiting for Bones to do her magic on the lift loft, they eventually squeezed their way inside the compartment housing the mysterious duffle bag needed to get all the junk together. It was hidden behind one of the consoles used to operate the lift.

"How did you even know this was here?" Booth heard himself ask.

"One day, the lift got stuck and none of the technicians could get here within five hours, and six people were caught in the lift, so they talked me through it-- unsticking the lift I mean. Then I realized it would be the perfect place to hide something." She pulled out a dusty red bag that kind of sagged in the middle and had child-like felt marker everywhere, with crude drawings of the human anatomy, mostly skeletal.

"We should get this back to the Jeffersonian."

"Shouldn't we do the decoding or whatever here first?"

"Nope," replied Delaney, completely ending any argument which may have arisen.

George was having an extremely odd day. First off, Dr. Brennan's secret daughter showed up, only when he saw them together he was informed that she wasn't her biological daughter, she was her ward. Then, the entire forensics department was shut down by order of a governmental branch which no security guard could manage to identify. They had unceremoniously removed all "non-essential" personnel, leaving only Dr. Brennan, Mr. Agent Booth, Miss Montenegro, Dr. Hodgins, Dr. Addy, Dr. Saroyan and the ward – Delaney— in the building, along with those new mysterious governmental men. Then, to top it all off Mr. Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan and Delaney had left the building, barely waving at him, which to be honest had hurt him a little bit. But he reconciled this with the fact that perhaps just maybe they had a very big scary case on their hands and he would give them the benefit of the doubt in this instance. Perhaps when they returned they would either apologise for their behaviour or acknowledge him. And this is exactly what did occur only hours after their departure. Only this time, Dr. Brennan was carrying a light red bag, Mr. Agent Booth was carrying a large box full of miscellaneous items and Delaney seemed to be slightly skipping towards the building. She greeted George with a bright smile reminiscent of the day he remembered Dr. Brennan's birthday and forewarned her of the 'surprise party' Miss Montenegro had planned for her. He also very covertly helped the Doctor to escape the building during those festivities. George was relieved the mysterious military-esque men hadn't opted to remove him as well; he was very deliberate and proud of his ability to keep the safety of the building. It was his job.

**I'm so pleased with myself that George made a comeback.**

**A little short, I know, but intend the next chapter to be a good long one... yay!**


	12. Chapter 12

**OMGoodness! This has been so frustrating, the site doing this weird thing not allowing me to upload my new chapter. But it's working now so everything is ok, and you guys can all finally find out who the body is! Yay, and it only took eleven chapters to get here.**

**Disclaimer: -Not mine, blah blah etc.  
**

It seemed both too long and too short of a time for Tempe and Delaney to be out of his protection, Sam thought. He would have to reconcile the fact that they trusted this Agent Booth and that Tempe was Tempe. At least she took someone with her for protection. Sam has spent the time without Tempe around trying to collect the details of the case, trying to bring all the seemingly innocent factoids together to create some kind of working montage of what the serial killer was trying to achieve. _Why now? Why had he returned after all this time, what hadn't he finished, why were these poor innocent girls dying? And for heaven's sake – what was the deal with the numbers, where they part of a catalogue of his 'pieces'?_ Sam didn't know how much longer he could take this. Hopefully Tempe's old case notes would prove useful in some manner.

Angela was becoming increasingly frustrated. Normally, when she drew the faces of victims, she could distance herself from her world. The things that would otherwise occupy her mind were checked out, left in the baggage department of her brain. Things like how gradually her feelings for Jack were becoming more than she could ignore, things like how she secretly had a catalogue for every one of the looks Booth and Brennan gave each other, but for some reason every time she began to outline 'number sixteen's' facial features she would recognize Delaney in them and stop, convinced she was imprinting the victim's face with the facial markers of Delaney. She cursed Brennan for bringing her daughter into this case. Whatever was going on with this psycho serial killer really aught not to have anything to do with a young girl who obviously fitted the right age groups for his prey. In the end, she called Zack over and had him check every single one of the facial features she had measured. He confirmed each one, separately and without seeing them as a whole. Angela was becoming more and more aggravated. No matter how many times she did the sketches, they all came up as Delaney. She felt like she had failed 'number sixteen' and she hated it, vehemently.

"I've got it!" proclaimed Hodgins. Zack and Angela both turned to him, struggling to remember what it was exactly that he had been tyring to get.

"A little more information please," Angela remarked, upon the silence that followed.

"I found out who the girl is…number sixteen. Well, at least I think it's her. We'll have to check dental matches to be absolutely positive, but based upon the details of her bone structure, height, approximate weight, coloring, age and missing persons in the area, it's a pretty good match."

"Well?" Sam pushed out in one heavy breath.

"Meet Geneva Cartley, eighteen years old, from right here. Missing for two days, looks like she was abducted right after a night shift where she worked." As he spoke, he transferred her picture to the Angelator. Cam gasped, she looked remarkably like Delaney. Angela held up her countless sketches of number sixteen; the ones she thought were of Delaney and began to see the similarities between her sketch and Geneva's picture.

Sam silently opened his wallet and took out a snapshot of Delaney, one where she overlooked the Sydney Botanical Garden; he held it up next to the depiction of Geneva. There were small differences between to the two young women. Delaney's nose was more upturned and petite; she had a cupid bow for lips instead of Geneva's more rounded mouth. Other differences, too, were noticeable, but a rather good likeness he thought. Finally, Zack found the dental x-rays for Geneva in the files sent by the police searching for the missing girl. He held them next to the x-rays for the presumed sixteenth victim and confirmed that they were indeed the same. He asked Hodgins to concur, which he did.

As if by some silent poll, they each sat down. Silently and in a kind of commemoration for the dead. They were not aware for how long they stayed this way, but it was long enough for the Angelator and all the Jeffersonian computers to go into energy-saver mode. There was nothing now that they could do. The enquiries had been sent hours ago to Interpol, checking for similar abduction/murders of young girls between the ages twelve through eighteen. Patience was the aim now.

Sam sat outwardly silent, but unlike the others, inside he was drowning in a storm of names, a horrific list of those he was unable to save. Tabitha Shue, Katie Rowe, Allison Marker, Evangeline Milam, Faye Witchard, Guinevere Darling, Genevieve Darling, Geneva Cartley. Granted, he knew that Genevieve had survived, but no thanks to him. First off, he had allowed that madman to enter into a supposedly safe building where both Genevieve and Tempe had been, let him carry off the young girl whose family had just been obliterated, do unspeakable injustices to her and then he couldn't even find it in himself to track her down and save her in the manner of which he had become accustomed to. He couldn't save the damsel in distress from the evil ogre lurking in the ruined castle. He was a disgrace to all protective agencies. He was amazed that Genevieve and Temperance had forgiven him. If he (the killer) hadn't let Genevieve go, Sam wasn't sure he would still be alive today. The pain of his failure was becoming too great, and now with the added blow of Geneva, and possibly eight other defenseless victims, he would succeed this time. He would apprehend the serial killer or die trying. More than that, he thought, his aim was to succeed or die. He would not be accountable for these atrocities anymore, not after this.

Just as Sam's fist began to clench in silent agreement of his dark pact, his pager went off.

FILES SENT. INTERPOL.

Sam approached the computer and opened up his professional email account, there were ten emails, each with the caption of a different girl's name. He quickly scanned the autopsy reports looking for numbers carved into the left side of the ribcage; he found four that fit the criteria. As he searched through those remaining cases more carefully, he noticed discrepancies with the case of Leah Chapman. This poor girl from India, while having been attacked brutally with a knife and carved with an eleven, had later had an amended notation in the file stating that her father had confessed to committing the crime in a drunk rage. He stated that the eleven was done to purify her soul, an attempt to cleanse her from her sexual impurities. Sam did not see how this case could conceivably be related. He also noted that the knife marks did not follow the configuration of the bone, but were more of a slash and miss mentality. The remaining three files originated from Japan and Canada, and they looked promising, however disturbing the use of the word may seem.

**Well, there you go. Hope that works for you.**

**Next up should be more about Bones' red bag and all the miscellaneous things inside of it, but I'm not making any promises because these characters do what they want, I'm just the scribe.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Ye-AH! I've done another chapter much to my relief and I'm sure anyone who had been hating me for my lack of posting.**

**But apparently I have perfect timing due to my Beta, who said she couldn't have helped if I'd been an quicker, so I guess everythings all ok now, thanks to me...and ae... well, and the show I guess cause it rocks and isn't mine in any way shape or form.**

Brennan, Booth and Delaney arrived with red bag in tow to see the 'squint-squad' huddled around Angela's table. They seemed to be looking at files; Booth could see them about to spill over the edge of the desk. He quietly, almost stealthily, put down the box filled with the miscellaneous items from Bones' house.

"Sam?" Brennan asked.

"Tempe? You're back." He reached over Angela's shoulder and tapped some command into the computer. The Angelator whirred and three filed pictures appeared on it. Two pretty and petite Asian girls and one slender Caucasian girl peered back at them. "I'd like you to meet Jenni Nagano, Gen Mie and Gwenyth Ford. Numbers eleven, twelve and fourteen. Respectively."

"Oh no," Brennan breathed. "I was hoping I was wrong about this."

"I'm pretty sure we all were, Bones."

Angela kept looking at her sketches of Geneva Cartley, and the pictures of Jenni, Gen and Gwenyth. The more she looked, the more she saw the similarities, and the more she saw similarities, the more she wanted to pull Brennan aside and force her into telling her everything. Telling her everything about Delaney and why she looked so damned much like the victims.

"What's with the third-grade bone bag?" Hodgins asked, pulling everyone's attention from the three girls to Brennan.

"This has everything we are going to need at the moment," Brennan stated, pointing to the box on the floor while shrugging her shoulder and jiggling the red bag. "This will go a whole lot faster if you just do as I ask and not ask questions. I can't be bothered right now to explain in minute detail what it is I'm doing mainly because I'm not entirely sure myself. I've spent a huge amount of time trying to act like I didn't know that this was going to be useful. I mainly just kept these things because Genevieve asked me to and even _she_ wouldn't tell me why." All the time that Bones had been giving this long-winded explanation for why she wasn't going to explain, she had opened the red skeleton bag and removed many of the items. There were old cloths, and a stick of desiccated gum, three yards of ratty green tinsel and a pencil sharpener in the shape of a turtledove. Once she had removed all the items out of the bag, she ripped the bottom out of it and separated the sections. In between the fabric fluttered out a crumpled, aged and slightly dirty piece of paper. Brennan seized this paper with a sense of purpose Booth had only seen a handful of times, coming foremost into his mind was that time the pirate bones had all but disappeared from the Jeffersonian. "Okay, I'll need each one of you to pick two or three of the items out of the box so that when I ask you a question about them it will be easier than everyone searching the whole pile." She looked up to check that everyone was compliant with her suggestion. Some of them nodding (Zack and Cam) while others simply stood staring at her, waiting for her go-ahead to pick up the items.

Brennan moved to Angela's desk and laid out the paper, she picked up another pen and piece of paper and began the daunting task she had laid out for herself and by extension the others. She sighed, "The Cat Power CD, third song, fourth letter of the third verse."

After much fumbling with the CD case and then the small booklet of lyrics, Cam eventually replied, "E." Brennan proceeded to write down the letter.

"Novel, The Negotiator, page 295, first letter of the last word on the page?"

Booth answered, "M."

The next item was Brennan's souvenir from South Africa, a hand-made rug filled with running Gnu and Hippopotami. "Second letter of the artist's name?"

Hodgins squinted at the nearly illegible script, "um…A, I think."

"You think, or you're sure?"

"No, it's definitely an A."

After a long and tedious voyage through the meaningless items, and the list on Brennan's piece of paper. She eventually stopped asking questions. She hadn't looked up from her list though, and Angela was beginning to worry. "Sweetie? What is it?"

"Why didn't I notice this earlier?"

"Notice what?"

"When I changed the items I had originally used for this, why didn't I notice what it said?"

"What do you mean the items you originally used?" inquired Sam. He had been covertly trying to inspect that piece of paper since she first brought it out of the now broken bag.

"When Genevieve first came back, from…you know. I couldn't get her to focus, nothing worked. She would mumble the same thing over and over, but so quietly, I could never hear. So one day I gave her some things to look over. Things she and Guinevere had liked of mine. And she came up with this list. Things like first letter of the tag of my bumblebee socks, or last letter of the colour of the flower in a certain picture. She made me promise to keep all the things and to never lose the list. But some of the things I wasn't allowed to keep, like the picture I was talking about. So I just transferred them onto another object, but I never thought to piece them together to see what it said. I was more worried about keeping Genevieve safe."

"Why did you never tell me this Tempe?" Sam asked.

"It was the way I got her to talk. It was the way I got her back; she made me promise not to tell. I wasn't going to jeopardise her future because you needed to catch the guy, and I wasn't even sure if the information was useful!"

"But you are now?"

Brennan's eyes unconsciously flicked toward Delaney before answering, "I'm not sure, but now that I know what the information is, I'm not exactly happy I didn't tell you."

"What does it say?"

"EMAIL ME you telling me you had a way to contact the killer all this time and we've never used it?"

"I didn't know, okay!"

"No, it's not okay. All these other girls are dead because of this."

"But he said he had stopped. That is was finished."

"We only know what Genevieve told us! He could have lied, he did lie!" Sam continued.

"No. He thought he had finished."

"Delaney?" Sam spoke her name, but it was really a way to ask a question.

"Speaking, psychologically, based on the forensic evidence you've uncovered. The killer probably thought he had finished whatever he was trying to do, with number seven. Because, the way the evidence is leaning, he seems to be recreating the Darling twins with all these other girls. I'm mean look at them, Jenni, Gen, Gwenyth, Geneva; they all look the same, or at least similar, in some ways. And come on, their names…Jenni, Gen, Geneva, Gwenyth, Guinevere, Genevieve. That can't be coincidence."

_Delaney,_ thought Angela. _If we're basing this on looks, were do you fit in? You look like them too, only no naming rhyme._

**Is anyone else freaked out about how long this story is going. I swear when I started it wasn't this involved and the involvement is only getting bigger as I continue to write this story.**

**Reviews much appreciated and if you make it super-special, I'll answer a free question just for you. Damn, now I'm down to bribing people, please don't be put off if you hate this behavior - we all have our faults.**


	14. Chapter 14

**I apologize to everyone about my slackness in bringing the next chapter to you all, but it really needed to be perfect as I'm sure you will all understand when you finish reading it. Arc  
**

"_That can't be a coincidence."_

"So, are we going to email the killer?" Hodgins asked. The silence following Delaney's impromptu speech had rendered the group immobile, but he wanted to know what was going on. No one deserved to live in fear. He'd felt fear, knew how utterly hopeless it left you, how unmanageable it was. He wanted to get this guy, stop him before any more innocent girls were killed, simply because he had some weird fetish for bone carving or whatever.

"It probably doesn't exist anymore," Brennan stated.

"Well, we won't know until we try will we, Bones?"

"I'll do it," Angela said. "At least that way the killer won't know who I am."

"I don't like it…but we need to catch this guy," Sam said. He wasn't willing to give up Angela or Tempe to catch the killer, but he knew that before this was over someone was going to lose a lot in this pursuit. He only hoped it wasn't going to be too detrimental for that person. Sam had never understood the saying 'I'd give my right arm," but it was beginning to make sense to him. He'd be willing to be the one-armed man for the rest of his life if it meant no more deranged serial killer hacking up teenaged girls across the globe.

There was a slight tremor in Angela's hands as she entered her email account. She wrote:

_To whom it may concern,_

_Why are you still doing this?_

"Guys, who should I say it's from?" Angela asked.

Bones looked at Delaney, who looked at Sam, who eventually muttered, "Genevieve."

_To whom it may concern,_

_Why are you still doing this?_

_I thought you had stopped._

_Genevieve._

She sent the email, hoping to heaven that the account didn't exist or that if it did the killer bone man wouldn't keep them waiting around for too long. Before long, maybe twenty seconds, the heavy feeling of prolonged waiting entered the room.

Delaney didn't know about the rest of them, but she wasn't going to give that man the satisfaction of having them wait around for him. She moved back over to the table where Tempe's things had been strewn. She started to shift through them, wondering about the possible significance of each item. She discarded the obvious ones, the ones used to complete the email address puzzle. Eventually, she was left with a handful of yellowed paper, the ratty gungy green tinsel and the off-white turtledove pencil sharpener. _An odd choice if she did think so herself_.

Zack had been watching the group since Angela had sent the email. Again, he was reminded of how little he really understood about human interaction. It was helpful for him to know that he could ask Angela, Hodgins, and sometimes Booth if it wasn't a delicate-like question, but right now he curse his brilliantness because it was not at all helpful to Dr. Brennan or Delaney. No quotient of intelligence was going to ease the situation, or help find this killer. Since it was possible for him to carry on a minimum two sets of well thought out and completely unrelated trains of thought at the same time he was both cursing his intelligence and trying to figure out what Delaney was doing at the table by the disregarded items. He had noticed her focus shift from the larger items to the more insignificant ones, the ones Dr. Brennan had first set aside as of no use. He watched as she bent her head further toward the table, her hand slowly and fluidly reached out to pick up the pencil sharpener, as her breathing stopped for more than an instant. He counted the seconds, waiting for her to release the breath that had become trapped inside of her at the first touch of the turtledove. At twenty seconds, Dr. Brennan, Booth and Sam noticed Delaney's posture; at thirty, Hodgins, Angela and Cam did, too. At forty, her whispered voice carried throughout the room, "Within me is a treasure trove of sweet and lasting memories, I never fail to bring you to mind."

"What does that mean?" asked Booth. He sidled up to her on the other side of the table, trying to appear protective and non-threatening.

"Liquid gold you flood my soul with such tenderness of love and adulation," she continued.

"Delaney?" Dr. Brennan asked, her voice slowly rising.

"I breathe your name in silence before the elm tree, and see before me your dancing eyes in the rushing stream, fleeting moments we once enjoyed, as the sand trickled through the vein." Booth eased the turtledove pencil sharpener out of her loose fingers, the loss of contact immediately bringing Delaney out of whatever, wherever she had been.

The phone rang.

The phone rang.

The phone rang.

"Hello?" Angela's hoarse voice broke out through the dread. She almost dropped the handset. Shakily, she pressed the speakerphone button, "It's on."

"Temperance, Sam, are you there?" a deep, masculine voice asked through the stillness.

"Who is this?" Sam asked, his training at governmental agencies allowing his voice no betrayal of his emotions.

"Is Genevieve there, or is this a ruse?"

"No!" Brennan's indignant cry volleyed back at the disembodied voice.

The killer's chuckle would have startled the inhabitants of the room had they not already been fearful realizing to whom they were already speaking. "You have no understanding of how long I have waited, watched, how patient I have been longing for this moment. It was pure chance I happened upon…I've missed this, our interactions."

"How long have you been watching me?" Brennan exclaimed, trying desperately to control her already wavering voice.

"On and off since I released her."

Booth wanted Sam to take over questioning him; he didn't want Bones to have any more connection with him than necessary. Sam shook his head slightly, it was Tempe he wanted to talk to so, Tempe he was going to talk to. She would have to pay this price to save others, to protect them and Genevieve.

"You said it was finished," Brennan began again, once she believed her voice would comply with her wishes.

"I thought it was. I made a mistake. Tell me where Genevieve is and no more failed pieces will occur."

"They're not pieces," she growled, "They're people, young girls."

"Find Genevieve for me and we'll talk."

"You know I can't do that, she was put in Witness Protection…"

"No, she wasn't. I checked."

Silence accompanied his statement.

"Did you know," he began. "Were you aware I am currently working on 17?" More silence from the room. "A lovely, young, fresh, blank canvas."

"What's her name?" Sam said gruffly.

"Sam! You are there…Her name is Genna Hart, so supple, pliant…a real pleasure to work with."

"You…" the expletive dying on Sam's lips as Brennan re-entered the conversation.

"Please don't do this, let her go."

"I want my Darling. I want Genevieve, find me Genevieve Darling!"

"We can't do that," restated Sam.

"You are mine, and always will be my love, as I whisper your name to the four elements, what once was, can be again, as at the setting of the sun. The stars came out to play and remind us of our indissoluble pact, when you and I sat on the ivy covered stone wall, as the sun and our smiles dappled our skin."

Arched eyebrows accompanied furrowed ones as the group glanced at each other. Minds boggling at the strange cadence the voice had taken, the soothing nature it had as he expressed those sentiments.

_Who is he talking to? _thought Booth.

_Really rather pretty_, thought Hodgins, _in a disturbed serial killer way_.

_Very artistic_, Angela thought_, although undeniably creepy._

Simultaneously Sam and Brennan thought, _He's not talking to me_.

Cam's brain seemed to be frozen by the wholly disconcerting place she had found herself in – half taken hostage by mysterious agency men, being spoken to in riddles and lyrical poetry by an unbalanced, definitely crazy serial killer.

_Familiar_, was Zack thought his mind raced as he tried to piece together why this was so familiar.

"Joe," Delaney said, the sound of her voice slicing through the silent air as clear a sound as a rock concert losing power mid-ballad.

"I've missed you…see you soon," replied the voice, shortly followed by the dial tone.

**Just a quick Disclaimer:- None of Bones is mine, and those lovely quotes come from Peter Paton whose poem is wonderfully written in full eventually in this fic, but not yet because it would ruin what I'm going for here. So I'll not be naming the poem just yet, cause the title's important too. Please forgive me if this frustrates you, and if you're one of those people who absolutely cannot stand being in the dark about it, i'll message it to you in private ;)**


	15. Chapter 15

**She posts the next chapter while running around the room 'whoop-whooping'**

**Hope you all enjoy the creepy-factor in this ever growing mystery!**

**Disclaimer:- I do not own Bones...(does anyone else find doing this disclaimer every time annoying?) AND I do not own in anyway Peter Paton's poem 'The Turtledove'.**

"_Joe"_

"_I've missed you…see you soon."_

The dial tone resounded, its echo filling the room. Brennan was the first to react.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" she hissed, attempting to drag Delaney out of the room before realising there wasn't any other place they could go.

"Tell me!" She shook her, the force surprising to Booth. "He didn't know you were here, he only suspected. You just told him you were here, how could you do that? How could you…" Booth's hand on her shoulder allowed Brennan to let go of Delaney's shoulders.

"I- I don't remember," Delaney answered.

"What do you mean you don't remember? He spouted some poetry and you said his name. You never told us his name! Why did you lie to us…to me?" Brennan continued, her usual resonant voice cracking in distress.

"I- I didn't lie. I don't remember, and then I did…remember."

"What else do you remember, sweetie?" asked Angela. She may not have forgiven Bren for leaving out such a significant part of her life, but she wasn't about to hold Delaney responsible for it.

"I don't know, the turtledove," she said as her hand reached out for it. Booth quickly pulled it further away.

"Hey, I need that!" she exclaimed, indignantly.

"First things first. ' Joe' is the serial killer?" Booth inquired.

"Yes," she complained, reaching again for the pencil sharpener, "but not really."

"What do mean not really? He has a number 17 right now! That's 17 deaths, 17 murders he's accountable for."

"16 deaths! I'm not dead."

"16 murders Delaney! Murders, he's a murderer, a killer."

"Only by accident, he never meant to kill anyone, that's only a by-product of his work."

"Whoa. Stockholm syndrome anyone?" Hodgins mock asked.

"Yeah, how long exactly was Delaney with him?" Cam asked.

Sam swallowed, "Since he began doing this, his times with the girls got less and less. Tabitha was four months, Katie three, Allison was two, and both Evangeline and Faye were one month, while Guinevere was three weeks. But according to these recent ones, Jenni, Gen, Gwenyth and Geneva they all seem to have been missing for around ten days."

"Yeah, that's all fine and good, but I was asking about Delaney."

"Genevieve was held by him for a month and a half." He replied flatly.

"I just want to make sure that we're all on the same page here…" Cam rejoined. "Delaney is Genevieve."

"Yes, she is." Sam stated.

"Turtledoves," Zack announced.

"What?" appealed Hodgins.

"When she was reciting the poetry, Joe too, it seemed familiar. Like I had heard it somewhere before and then I realized I had. It's a poem."

"A poem? So while this creep was cutting her up he was reciting poetry?"

"Maybe, if I recite it from where he left off, it may help her memory?"

"Delaney, what do you think?" asked Brennan.

Delaney/Genevieve nodded with closed eyes as Booth dropped the turtledove pencil sharpener back into her hand. Zack only hoped that he was remembering the correct poem; it had been awhile since he last read it.

"You know I am the greatest love you have ever known, so pick that precious bluebell back off the ground and hold it within your hand so gentle. Just speak my name to the angels all around and your love will travel straight to my heart and I will come once more to your side." He paused, Delaney's eyes had never opened, though her lips had begun to move in sync with the words. He tried to continue but found that his voice had fled him.

"It's okay Joe, I remember the rest…where I belong forever and a night and joy will be resumed in all its splendour, for my love, what we have is sun-kissed by heavenly doves," Genevieve whispered. When she finally opened her eyes, the girl they saw was no longer Delaney. "Where's Joe?"

"Delaney?" Brennan asked there was no response, "Genevieve?"

"Tempe? What are you doing here? Where's Joe?"

"Darling, Joe's not here anymore."

"Where is he? He said I could stay here until Guinevere was with me."

"Do you remember what happened before Joe brought you here?"

"Mum and Dad were killed in a car accident." She replied intermittedly.

"Yes, do you remember before that?"

She tilted her head to the side in a manner that reminded Angela of her pre-teen next-door neighbor. "We thought Guinevere had been kidnapped?" she asked haltingly.

"She had been kidnapped De-Genevieve, by Joe. And she died. Do you remember?"

"Because her heart broke."

"Yes. So Joe took you."

"He said-"

"What did he say?"

"I'm not supposed to say it. I promised."

"You can tell me, I won't tell anyone. I'm good at keeping secrets."

"But what about them?" She half whispered indicting the rest of the room.

"They're good too, they won't tell anyone."

"He said that he could finish his work because Guinevere told him I would work."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand. Can you explain it a little bit bett-"

"More, explain it more," interrupted Booth, giving Brennan a quick reassuring look.

"Joe said that as Guinevere was going, she told him that I would work out. That I would be his last piece, that it would be finished after me. I would be the last."

"And you will be," came the voice from the phone, only the phone was still on the dial tone.

**So...am I fulfilling my creepy-factor?**

**Spoiler for next chapter - read no further if you like surprises.**

**For Ampersand Ellipsis - George makes an appearance...Yay for George! (he's so cute, I really love him, I wish he was my next-door neighbor, or my grandpa)**


	16. Chapter 16

**A Good evening/morning to all Readers and Reviewers, the newest chapter in the saga is here. Complete with your very own George.**

Dr. Brennan, Special Agent Booth and Delaney Wiltshire, the ward, had returned a while ago. They had entered the Jeffersonian to work on their case, and he had sat outside guarding the entrance. George had been quite pleased with himself that out of all the security guards in the Jeffersonian, he was the only one specifically asked by both Dr. Brennan and Special Agent Booth to remain on duty. Only now, he wasn't quite so sure that he was pleased with the outcome of that decision. He shouldn't have been so quick to acquiesce to their plea, especially as he was being roughly pushed down the hallway towards the forensic division of the Jeffersonian.

There had been too many shocks today, George concluded. Dr. Brennan having a daughter, only not a daughter more of a mini-protégé, then a band of men in dark suits descended upon the workplace, kicking out countless numbers of workers and basically holding Dr Brennan's immediate circle of colleagues hostage. And just when he was relaxing, feeling ready to pack up and head home for the evening, the express postman arrived. Every other week or so, for the past eight months, J.J. had been given the Jeffersonian route. He and George had become relatively good friends, at least in the capacity that two unrelated people can become friends when you only see each other for ten minutes every fourteen days. But, J.J. was a good friend, he always brought George a caramel frosted, brown and white sprinkled doughnut. The kind J.J. referred to as sugary goodness masquerading as something blandly healthy. But today, as George was quietly waiting for the clock to hit five so he could go home, J.J. had strolled up the path waving a bag of doughnuts at him.

"J.J," he had said. "What brings you here on an evening such as this one?"

"George, my good friend. I had hoped you would have been sent home."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm afraid, George, that I have mislead you in my intentions for this place. Now if you would do me the pleasure of standing slowly, unclipping your weapon with your index finger, placing it on the desk and opening the doors to the laboratory."

He presumed he must have not responded quickly enough because instead of J.J. pulling out a sugar-coated doughnut, he pulled out a dark, matte-colored object. On closer inspection, perhaps because it was now five centimetres from his face, he realized it was a gun.

J.J. pushed and prodded George along the corridor quickly, but not without compassion for his elderly legs. George tried to figure out what was going on, but all he could think about was why J.J. the express post-man was threatening him with a gun, and why would it be so important for him to use it to break into the Jeffersonian? Everything in this place was years old, of course valuable, but insured, and who in their right mind would try to steal something from this place where cameras were everywhere? _This is why I became a security guard at a museum,_ he thought, _to avoid being caught in the centre of a security problem._ A quick and sudden pull on his arm notified George of the intended destination. He was surprised to find himself just outside Miss Angela's office. He could hear the faint whirring of the Angelator, the name Dr. Brennan and Angela had affectionately called the machine, he could also hear them talking, asking someone questions.

"…last piece…be finished after me. I would be the last."

He felt the gun pushing into his back urging him forward and through the threshold of the room.

"And you will be," J.J. stated. George watched in perverse fascination as the entire room's focus shifted from Delaney to himself. Or more precisely J.J.

"George…what happened?" asked Booth, slowly turning his body to shield Brennan.

"I…I don't-"

"Forgive George for the intrusion, but I needed him to get me into the building." J.J. said, carefully manoeuvring George closer to Delaney.

"Delaney, come over here," the dark man in the expensive suit commanded. Only she didn't move. George was about to comment that perhaps she should listen to the man when J.J. spoke.

"Genevieve. Darling, swap places with George for me."

She immediately responded to his voice, moving so quickly she accidentally tripped George. As he fell to the floor crashing his right hip hard into the ground, Booth and the dark man's guns were instantly up and aimed at J.J.

"Sam," J.J. began, shaking his head condescendingly, "Is this anyway to treat an old friend?"

"You are no friend of mine," replied the man, (Sam, George corrected) as Dr. Brennan slowly helped him up.

"Acquaintance then, work colleague?"

"You are the serial killer I am hunting down."

"Somehow I believe that I am the one doing the hunting," J.J. responded, turning his head longingly at Delaney. His gun was still aimed in the same direction, but by now, no one had realised that it wasn't actually pointing at any person. He had his free arm looped around Delaney's back, almost an embrace.

She couldn't remember much, the voice compelled her to move. Reflex and self-preservation had long ago taught her to respond immediately. So fast…_too fast_, she thinks, as the elderly, sweet gentleman crashes into the floor. The sound vibrating through her feet, tingling the backs of her legs as all she can focus on is the heavy sound of his voice and the heady feeling of complete security as his arm wraps around her body, encompassing her.

She thinks of Guinevere and in a relaxing instant, she can feel her twin by her side clasping her hand and communicating with her.

She remembers.

The room where her counterpart died is etched into her brain, a complete horrible tableau. The roof she memorised, quarter-inch by quarter-inch perfectly preserved, as she lay immobile staring up through the pain. The tacky feel and sour smell of her own blood blending with her sister's wafts through the room. An urge to heave rises in her oesophagus, the bile bitter in the back of her throat. She clears it to reaffirm herself.

"Yes, Genevieve?" _he_ asks.

_Answer the man_, she thinks.

**I am unfortunately going to be away for a while and will be posting the new chapters on here by PROXY - (Hi!) she greets you**

**She will be updating the story for me, she's basically going to become my publisher, hehe.**

**Anyway, please continue to review because I will be getting told if you do or not. It just will take me a little longer than normal for everything to happen. Don't give up the hope!**

**Lots of luv and writing happiness, Arc  
**


	17. Chapter 18

_Answer the man_, she thinks.

He waited expectantly. His eyes focused on her face, his arm still connected to the weapon, the weapon still pointing harmlessly at the wall. While his fascination was totally on Genevieve, every other person's was on him. They were trying to figure out how this man became a bone-carving criminal, a fact that Booth was finding rather strange to dissolve. He was aware that most criminals became that way out of emotion and "Joe's" seemed to stem from emotion, too. He wanted Guinevere back and if he couldn't have her, he was going to have Genevieve. And if he couldn't have her, he was going to continue trying to relive that time with whatever available girl he could get. The only thing Booth couldn't understand was how this man got started.

The start of Joe's killing spree did not matter one iota to Sam. If he was at all convinced that Delaney wouldn't get hurt he would have already blown a gaping hole in his heart. But as he eliminated choices, Delaney spoke.

"I've waited a long time to be near you," she replied.

Joe seemed delighted. His whole controlling demeanour came back, the one that George witnessed only moments earlier and the one Genevieve had found a break in. A minute gap that stretched into the very psyche of his captive, Guinevere had found it, too, and the remarkable bond twins have allowed her to pass that knowledge to her sister. _Joe had a weakness._

George looked at his former friend, the man he had come to view as a kindred spirit in the service industry. Ever since his dear wife Maybelle had passed on seven years ago he had come to think of his work colleagues as extended family. To think that he had brought this horrible person into their life was almost too much to bear. But from the look of Dr. Brennan's face this was an old scar re-opened, a new wound that completely overtook the old one.

Paralysed by fear and intense hate, Sam could do nothing except watch in abject horror as Joe took control of the Jeffersonian. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered where his men were. They were the best out of his workers. His entire division had applied and undergone intense training to join his Private team. Those five men were the best of his best! The thought was a niggling one, but his frontal lobes were much more interested in his immediate problem. _If only he had known._

Zack was getting agitated. He had never been on the receiving end of a fearful situation like this. He was surprised to realise he was more concerned with Delaney's safety than his own. _This must be what Booth felt when Dr Brennan was abducted. It is not a pleasant feeling._

It seemed Joe had decided to rearrange Angela's office. He ordered Brennan and Angela to drag the couch over to barricade the door. He made the men sit on the floor, their backs against the wall and hands behind their heads. It seemed thought that Joe had some compassion. At least he did when Delaney looked at him disapprovingly. He allowed George to lie down on the couch near the door.

Every so often Joe would reach out his hand to touch and caress Genevieve. His hands fiddled with her hair, ran fingers down her arm, his eyes longingly taking in every change in her appearance from those six years apart. Every time he did this Brennan almost heaved, the horror of the situation fleeing her instantaneously, only to be brought back numerously and unexpectedly.

Delaney sat in her mind. She comprehended what had happened, but couldn't figure out what her next move should be; as for Genevieve, she was completely aware of the choices and consequences that were going to arise from the next few minutes in this place. All she needed was compliance from Delaney.

Delaney was training to be a forensic psychologist. She was slightly worried that she was having a split in personality. After traumatic events, especially those involving children, victims either block all memory of the event or deal with events constructively. She recognised that she had done neither on becoming who she was. She had simply cornered off Genevieve in another part of her brain. Delaney began to wonder what exactly had Genevieve been doing for all those years?

Planning.

That's what Genevieve had been doing all these years, planning the epitome of restitution. She didn't want revenge, she didn't want to make Joe suffer, she wasn't even deluded enough to allow herself to believe Joe's infantile brainwashing technique. Her memorisation of 'The Turtledove' was simply done as a survival technique and possible link to her sister. What Genevieve wanted, what she had planned and strived for all these years was one simple thing – Justice.

With that realisation, in a matter of a few silent, immense moments, Delaney and Genevieve became one entity. They had their memories and learned knowledge, and they had one distinct goal to find justice for Guinevere and partly for themselves.

Temperance Brennan wasn't the most observant individual, but she knew Genevieve/Delaney. She knew that girl better, probably, than she knew the reasons why she did things. The girl that had walked over to the serial killer was no one she had ever met before. Her frustrations mounted at the futility displayed by the incompetence of Sam's men and Booth's lack of action.

Angela was beginning to become angry. She had noticed about 10 minutes ago that her hands were shaking. No matter how much she ordered them to remain still, they would not obey. It would not do for her to have one of her extremely famous venting times right now! She desperately needed to pull Brennan, or possibly Jack, into a corner and whisper her distractions, but that wasn't a viable option either. Usually ordering her hands to comply with her wishes worked, and if that failed, she could always rely on her trusty sketchbook to calm the shivers. At the very least, it always produced an interesting picture. Neither option was available so she had decided to catalogue Delaney's movements and piece together what she would do if she were ever going to draw a portrait of her.

Angela's eyes drew in facets of her face, her stature, every nuance and aspect uniquely Delaney's. At this moment, Delaney was perched on the edge of the couch. Joe was still standing beside her but for her own sanity Angela was ignoring his presence. Delaney's breathing was slow and deep, if Angela didn't know better she'd think she was in a trance. Every so often, her eyelids would close and her long lashes would sweep dark elongated shadows across her cheeks. The dimmed light in her office gave the area a deep glow. Delaney's movements, or lack of movements, transporting Angela back to her jaunt in Italy. It had been a damp, foggy afternoon, she had sat in an antechamber of the Sistine Chapel staring at portraits for hours. The cadence of the busy street outside, the Gregorian hymns murmuring in another room, the musty smell of old documents and shadowed reflections on the paintings created an unrepeatable, unforgettable experience for her. Delaney was reminding her of that time –without the maniacal gun-wielding, knife killer guy, of course.

Just as Angela began to see the beginnings of a beautiful paining, a silhouette blocked her view.

He wanted to see.

He wanted to see the thing he had been dreaming of for the past six years, his work, his incomplete masterpiece, his legacy. He had no reservations about the others in the room seeing his work. He wanted all to see his magnificence. Once people saw the real example of his work, the one piece that had survived his process and not failed him, they would understand his purpose and applaud him. Joe stood up, towering above Genevieve and the occupants of the room. "Show me," he ordered. Everyone's heads snapped up. _Show him what?_

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

_Show him what?  
_


	18. Chapter 19

_Show him what?_

He was trembling with anticipation. Six years of celibacy – keeping himself from seeing his artwork had merely grown his hunger and desire to see, to touch. To run his fingers over the marks he had left on her. He was impatient, he had waited long enough. "Show me now," he said and helped her up.

Brennan watched in mute horror as Joe approach Genevieve. He repeated his order and when she wasn't quick enough to move, he yanked her off the couch so she was tilted unsteadily, trying to balance herself between the floor and his grasp on her left arm. Although it was quite obvious Joe's hold was rough, no sign of pain could be detected in Genevieve's face. In fact, to Brennan, she seemed quite content in his proximity. What had happened in Thailand for that month and a half? What had Joe done to her mind? The possibilities were too devastating to consider, too despicable for even her mind to comprehend.

Genevieve didn't want to do what Joe was asking her to, but she could not see any other way out. He controlled the situation, and she cared too much about her life to let the situation become uncontrolled. She moved her free hand to her waist, when Joe saw she was complying with his wishes he let go of her other hand. She slowly grasped the hem of her shirt and in one solid movement peeled it over her head.

He narrowed his eyes, another article of clothing kept him from his prize. He went to remove it for himself, but Genevieve stopped him. Abruptly she spun around and faced away from him. She lifted off her lavender singlet revealing her lower back.

Booth was outraged. His fury was permeating the air surrounding him. The rage causing his back to lock in one of his most aggressive stances. _This is a complete invasion of privacy, _he thought. He had other names for it, too, but none he felt appropriate under the circumstances. Just as his emotions threatened to overtake him Joe-the-serial-killer stepped out from blocking Delaney. She stood at attention, her back in full view, the only pieces of clothing still on her were her bra and her trousers. But for all this time, since he had met her this morning, another type of clothing had moved her. There were thin lines of white etched across her back following the very structure of her bones. The rib cage was delicately outlined and small oval shapes circled her spine, each vertebrae marked and separated. While Booth remained astounded by the sight Delaney started to turn. He would have been embarrassed by the fact that he was practically ogling a barely legal-aged girl, but he was too engrossed by the realisation of dedicated and warped personality required to create the massive scarring he was seeing. Her entire front torso was a mass of perfectly succinct lines following the bone. Joe had made her a living anatomy diagram. Her ribs were what stood out most, and if he wasn't mistaken he could see a faint numerical sign near her left arm – on her rib cage.

His turtledove, his other part, his unfinished masterpiece awaited him. All the practising and futility of failure was nearly over, his other blank canvas would at this moment be waking up in a park, rushing untouched to the nearest phone or police station to ring her Mommy and go home, never knowing the deliciousness of joining him in creating something beautiful. Only Guinevere had ever completely known that beauty, and Joe has been mislead in his thinking to believe that Genevieve's half-finished body represented his whole beautiful work. Michaelangelo's "David" wasn't pronounced finished missing two arms and a leg, so neither could Genevieve. She was delightful. He longed to embrace her, and realised there was nothing preventing him from doing so.

Brennan blinked for what felt like the first time in her life. That perverted human being was hugging Genevieve. He was actually pulling her devastated body into his disgusting mass and she was letting him! She wished she could take action, she wanted Sam or Booth or someone to be the knight-in-shining-armour and rescue the girl and save the day. But reality had taught her too well that hope was all she could hold onto right now. Hope that Genevieve would come out of this day unscathed, hope that someone would figure out this situation without any bloodshed or death. On second thought, bloodshed and death for Joe didn't sound so bad, but she really didn't care about what happened to him right now. Saving Genevieve was her first priority. She'd failed once and she never liked to repeat herself.

Deep breaths brought in smell as well as memory. The smell of clean linen, plastic, iced donuts, and that fragrant odour reminiscent of Thailand. Flashes of his face in various degrees of pain, exertion, glee and wonderment. Memories of his hands running over the mutilation exacted on her body. Her body screamed at him, pushing her to rebel but it wasn't time yet, she knew that. She had been patient so far, a few more minutes wasn't going to hurt anybody. And just as she thought that, Delaney realized her hand was dangerously near Joe's hip, before she could react she felt the familiar tug of her childhood persona. Genevieve wanted something. Something vital to her sanity, she relinquished control of this time knowing Genevieve had stayed alive for one reason – a promise. Genevieve brought her hand closer to Joe's hip, she finally rested it on him.

Joe was delighted when he felt her hand near his waist.

Sam was furious when he saw it, and Tempe felt nauseous. Joe broke contact with Genevieve, he wanted to see the compassion and clearness in her eyes, the innocence and need in her expression. He only saw focus.

Genevieve's fingers curled around the handle of Joe's gun. In a steady movement she had spent years perfecting, she stepped back out of his reach and levelled the gun at him. To say that the look on his face was priceless was an understatement. To Genevieve it was exquisite.

Joe's brain only registered the gun aimed at his chest. Slowly he began to take in the other factors and as he did understanding dawned, "Perfect," he spoke. "Yes, why don't you break the ties keeping you from me. Who should we start with? Temperance or Sam?"

Booths hand fiercely grabbed Bones' elbow, determined to draw her away if necessary.

Genevieve's stoicism was not altered throughout his statement and when he finished she let out a small, dry chuckle. "We will be breaking ties Joe, I promise you that."

She squeezed the trigger and shot his outstretched hand.

Angela and Zack yelped in conjunction with Joe's horrified scream of pain. The scene the staff of the Jeffersonian displayed, was a frozen tableau. Genevieve holding the gun at Joe, his hand dripping with blood so that the torn wound was covered by the blood, and the rest of the room transfixed by the moment.

She wanted to speak to explain her actions, but she knew if she opened her mouth a cacophony would erupt and that many words would be wasted on Joe.

"Genevieve! What are you doing?" Brennan finally asked, her heart pounded at her breastbone, adrenaline flooding her body.

Genevieve turned her head towards the sound. Eventually, she recognised the woman with the concerned face. "Tempe? What are you doing here?" Tempe's face abruptly fell. "Where are you?"

Her face scrunched up in puzzlement, "Where am I? What are you doing here? I've been waiting for you to find me."

"We're not in Thailand, Gene."

"I-" realisation dawned on her features. The hand holding the gun started to waver. It was still pointed toward Joe, but her focus was on Dr. Brennan. Her voice dropped. "I know where I am," she said and turned her head back to Joe. "I believe we have some things to discuss."

He barely managed to contain his whimpers. The blood was still flowing as he desperately tried to staunch it with his other hand. "I have to live every moment of my life with the knowledge that you killed my sister and irrevocably marked my body."

"I did not kill Guinevere," Joe hissed.

"You caused her death. She wouldn't have died if you hadn't caused her so much pain her heart broke!" The more Joe denied his part in Guinevere's death the angrier Genevieve got.

Eventually Hodgins and Cam were whispering to Joe, begging him to agree to what she was saying. Sam feared that the hostage situation was rapidly reeling out of control. First with Joe, and now with Genevieve.

Genevieve had had enough. "If you won't confess, you'll still take part in my promise."

Booth and Brennan froze, they'd been around enough desperate people to recognize that tone. It was the sound of someone resolved to ending pain – through any means.

She tightened her grip on the butt of the gun, feeling the transferred heat on her palm. Her index finger was still shaking from the exertion not to pull the trigger. She had so desperately wished that Joe would confess to murdering her twin. Now there was only one option left.

Joe's eyes fluttered in fear. This was not how today was supposed to go. He had spent years tracking Genevieve down to restart his work. He had been convinced she was as excited about his work as hew as. She bore his marks, yet here she was proudly displaying his work as if it meant nothing, everyone's attention was on her actions and not her body as he intended.

She lunged toward him, gun careening up to his head. He jumped back in right and straight into Sam's waiting frame. Two seconds later handcuffs endowed his wrists. Sam wrapped his arms around Joe's elbows determined to keep a larger degree of control. He wasn't going to lose him now. As he struggled to keep hold of Joe's wriggling frame, he was vaguely aware that Temperance and Agent Booth were speaking loudly and softly, respectively. When he lifted his head and moved Joe to his right he saw the reason for their urgency. Genevieve hadn't been trying to kill Joe. She had tried to destroy his work … herself.

"Genevieve, you don't want to do this," Booth began again. He figured if he kept talking he'd distract her long enough for someone to get the gun off her.

"I do, I do want to do this. It's the only way he'll ever stop" she replied. No fear or condemnation, no tears or adrenaline shakes, pure determination and resignation.

"Gen – Delaney" Brennan commanded. "Put the weapon down now. Your sister deserves more than this."

"Do you know how long I've been waiting for this moment? For him to see his work means nothing? That his attempts to create perfection are contingent on what I do, not what he does?"

"Why is it so important for him to see that, to know that? Can't you just live your life and forget him? He's caught now, no other girl will be hurt because of him. Please Delaney."

"I've lived under his shadow for six years, and to some degree so have you. Don't you want to be free?"

"I want to be free with integrity. That's what I want."

Sound bled out of the room and dark muteness enveloped as they waited for her to decide.


	19. Epilogue

EPILOGUE:

Temperance Brennan sat in the passenger seat of the car staring out the window. Her breath fogged up a section of the window. The morning dew had yet to settle, it still hung as a fog over the pristine lawn. The sun had barely begun to rise and she knew she wouldn't be able to get out of the car until at least a little heat was emanating down.

Ten minutes later, Booth was still watching Bones. His hands resting on the steering wheel. No emotion played across her face and he knew those signs well. She never did allow herself to express much pain in these places. He had known her long enough to realize the significance of white knuckles and clutching fingers.

Twenty minutes later, she moved. Her feet protested at the tendons stretching. She rolled her ankles and stepped outside of the car. Her knee-high boots crunching the wet gravel, quietly clicking the car door, she left the parking bay and walked over the crest. It had been a long time since she had last been here, the memories of Wayne and Judy's deaths had been viciously brought into her mind only days ago by the reappearance of Joe. Guinevere, too. She finally reached her destination, s foot from the top of the low hill, facing away from the centre of the grounds, underneath a curled cherry blossom tree. The thick branches and gnarled trunk testifying to its age, the tree had been there long before she had ever found it, but it had seemed appropriate at the time. She clutched the bouquet she had brought. It seemed a pitiful offering, but Booth had thoughtfully bought it before he picked her up. It naively declared innocence and life; large pink-tinged lilies, pale gerberas, dark violets and silver ferns, she vaguely wondered if he'd put it together himself. She bent her head to smell its fragrance and gently laid it on the grave.

"Do you think she's okay?" asked Bones. She found Booth looking directly at her. "You can go over and check. I think she'd appreciate it."

Brennan got out of the car. The mist had settled. It glistened across the graveyard. Genevieve didn't acknowledge her presence at first.

"The flowers really are nice. Really."

Brennan nodded, "Guinevere would have loved them."

"She was always the softer one. Drawn to the aesthetic."

"Was this helpful?" Temperance needed to know if she had done the right thing in telling Genevieve where her family were buried, for so long it had been classified information to protect her.

"I needed it … it settles things." Genevieve continued to look at the graves and the inscriptions placed there. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Okay," Brennan said, unsure of whether to at tempt physical contact. She turned and headed back to the car.

"She alright?" inquired Booth

"I hope so. It's hard … I don't know how to relate to her anymore." She breathed in and looked at Booth. "I'm not sure who she is anymore. I mean I thought I knew who she was, and then …"

"Yeah, that was pretty wild!" he half-chuckled before catching her glare. "Sorry."

"How do I relate to her when I'm not sure who she is?"

"You relate the same as you would to me or Angela, if we were in a bad place."

"This is different."

"No, it's not. Bones look, she-" Genevieve had reached the car.

"Talking about me?" She smirked.

"No!" they said emphatically.

"Maybe … possibly …" said Booth.

"Probably," added Brennan.

"I've decided the best way to resolve what happened is to decide who I want to be." She let that sink in before continuing. "I've spent so long denying being Genevieve, trying to exist without her that I've been lying to people. It's been necessary, but still they were lies – I'm a lie."

"You're not a lie, your name doesn't signify who you are!" replied Brennan

"My name is my identity. And I need to choose which one I am."

There was silence in the car as all three inhabitants stared out into the cool morning air. The frost had dissolved, and a slight wind gently shook the cherry blossom buds. They delicately waved from across the lawn, silently farewelling an era in their lives.

"So, who do we have the pleasure of accompanying us in this car?" asked Booth.

It had been a messy clean-up and debrief over the Jeffersonian debacle. Only one of Sam's men had survived the day. Joe had killed them before dragging George around. It turned out he had spent the six years training himself in the arts of warfare. But he had forgotten one vital thing – never let go of your weapon! Before Genevieve had been able to decide whether she wanted to destroy Joe's work (herself, if she stopped to think about it) or destroy him, the lone survivor of Joe's massacre had dragged himself down to Angela's office. He was the youngest man in the group, and possibly the most determined to prove himself. His appearance in Angela's office had given Zack the window of surprise and he had been able to pull the gun from Genevieve's grasp. The combined presence of trusted people in the room had righted her brain. She eventually overcame the shock of her personality split and began to remember vivid details of her abduction and was able to provide explanations of events when Joe wouldn't provide them.

"I think I'm going to be Delaney Darling."

Brennan smiled. She had chosen Delaney's name all those years ago. She had always liked the name, and the thought that Delaney still thought well enough of her previous life to not dismiss it warmed her innermost parts.

"Why Delaney Darling?" asked Booth. He may have accepted her decision, but that didn't mean he didn't want to know why.

"I appreciate and admire who I've become as Delaney Wiltshire, but I can't ignore who I used to be and my heritage. I'm not Genevieve anymore. I've lost my parents and my twin was destroyed, but that's still a significant part of me. So I'm keeping my surname, but I'm Delaney now."

There was another long pause – Brennan seemed to be struggling – she didn't know how to move the conversation into lighter territory. She had struggled enough with her own names.

With that thought Booth pulled out of the parking bay and headed to his favourite restaurant. "So, Deeds – breakfasts on you then?" he enquired, casting a cheeky smile over his shoulder.

Delaney chuckled and answered, "As long as you provide the money."

The End!


End file.
